


365 Plus 1 Days

by KifuSlick



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 38,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21855079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KifuSlick/pseuds/KifuSlick
Summary: Rogue just moved to New York to live with the X-men. 366 consecutive days will be described as romance blooms and drama ensues. For every day that passes, a new theme will be chosen. AU story line drawing upon comic personalities.
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Rogue
Kudos: 7





	1. 1 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floor. n. 1. that part of a room, hallway, or the like, that forms its lower enclosing surface and upon which one walks 2. a continuous supporting structure extending horizontally throughout a building, having a number of rooms, apartments, or the like, and constituting one level or stage in the structure; story 3. a level, supporting surface in any structure 4. one of two or more layers of material composing a floor 5. a platform or prepared level area for a particular use -v. 1. to cover or furnish with a floor 2. to bring down to the floor or ground; knock down 3. to overwhelm; defeat 4. to confound or puzzle; nonplus 5. to push a foot-operated accelerator all the way down to the floor of the vehicle, for maximum speed or power

The story was that she had moved to New York during the winter holidays. People move all of the time, with or without reason. Usually the pretenses were ignored by the masses, usually having to do with lack of interest more than anything. If more people understood the underlying reasons of Anna Marie's sudden enrollment, suspicions and rumors would fly around like mosquitoes on a summer day. 

The girl herself wasn't exactly what one would call normal: she had two stark white streaks growing from the crown of her skull whilst the rest of her hair was a dark auburn tinged brown; her personality wasn't shy, so to speak, but she did appear to be afraid of human contact on a physical level; and she tended to be flighty or uninterested when normalcy would dictate differently. She also didn't have anyone to claim as family. Her motherly figure had given up on Anna Marie's particular problems and shunted her off to the home in which she now stayed. The building itself was spectacular, but the people it housed were just as confounding as their newest resident. 

"Come, child, you're just in time for the New Years celebrations," the headmaster of the secondary school invited her warmly. Anna Marie, more often referred to as Rogue, had finally situated herself in a bedroom to call her own during her long stay. It took her a couple days to adjust to the thought that she'd be living with people her age, as well as a place where she could be as alone as she wanted, and it left her completely dizzy. Things in her life were taking a very sharp turn and she felt as if she were losing control.

"Ah dunno if Ah'm ready ta do any celebrations right now, professor," Rogue replied. "Ah'm still adjustin' ta all this an' all--"

"Nonsense!" a rather burly boy exclaimed. He padded up to Rogue, grabbing her gently around the shoulders. Rogue instinctually cringed away, but her efforts weren't a match for the boisterous boy's advances. "The best way to adjust is to emerse yourself, and what better way of doing so than partaking in a New Year's party?"

Rogue frowned to herself. "Slowly."

"We have a minute until New Years!" a new voice cried excitedly. His brown eyes were glued to the television screen as he bounced in place. Others were crowded around him to get a good view of the ball dropping in New York's Time Square. Rogue knew that a lot of children resided in this house, but it appeared to be a genuine party inside of that room.

The forthcoming boy removed the pressure from Rogue's shoulders once they were inside the room. He must have expected her to follow, because when she stopped short in her tracks, he turned right back around to look at her. "We won't hurt you," he stated blatantly. 

"Ah ... Ah know. Ah'm afraid _Ah'm_ gonna hurt you. Ah'm just not ready for this. Ah'm sorry!"

Her excuse was made, her newcomer's panic was in place. Rogue turned straight around and darted for the door. She whisked past the professor in the wheelchair, down the hallway, and through her door. She was safe inside her room. She couldn't touch anyone inside her room.

She hadn't even calmed herself down when a loud cheer broke through the wooden barrier of her walls. A quick glance to the clock confirmed it: it was officially a new year. Why couldn't she be as excited as everyone else? Tiptoeing up to the side of her bed, she sat beside it on the floor, craning her neck to stare at the clock as the last zero flicked into a one. It wasn't that she didn't want to socialize, but she didn't want her special powers getting in the way ...

A knock sounded on her door. Looking up from the clock, Rogue figured that it would be the same boy from before standing on the other side. "Go away!" she shouted despite her growing loneliness. "Ah already told you, ah--"

"I ain't Hank," the other called back, breaking into her speech.

"What?"

The knob turned and another, much scrawnier boy stepped inside. His hair was nearly the same color as Rogue's, she observed, but because of the main light source coming from behind, she couldn't make out the features of his face. "I said, I ain't Hank. I'm Remy." He stuck out a hand for her to take, though Rogue just stared at it.

"Ah'm Rogue," she replied quietly. A few days before, no one wanted to talk to her. Now, everyone appeared to be inviting her to something or another all at once. It appeared as if her plans wouldn't work.


	2. 2 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Do not Enter"

Rogue rolled over in her bed before pulling her knees up to her chest. The mansion had a warm atmosphere despite the chilling winds outside battling the extensive climate control of the inside. Still, Rogue was used to southern weather, where it was typically still warm during the winter with more moderate winter weather. New York was a completely different animal.

No one had bothered to wake her up a decent hour, and most of the other inhabitants of the mansion avoided her after her display at midnight the day before. Most of them. A couple still acknowledged her presence, and fewer still tried to engage her in conversation. She was more or less left to her own devices. She was certain that once school rolled around - she was told it would start up again on the ninth - the avoidance of these particular children would cease to exist. People tended to navigate towards their like, and since this was a more or less closed community, Rogue would eventually fit in, even if with only the kids at the mansion.

More challenges to the setting rhythm shook Rogue's life. A hurried knock at her door caused Rogue to peek her head out from under the covers to see someone crack her door open. A girl a couple years older than Rogue and with blazing red hair stood in the hallway, her hand on the door handle. "Hi. I didn't wake you, did I?"

Rogue refrained from rolling her eyes. "Nah, I was just layin' about."

The girl didn't appear to be convinced, but she had a goal in mind. "Sorry. The professor wants you in his office whenever you're ready. Although I suggest you go meet with him soon."

"Ah'm decent. Be there in a few."

The girl nodded her head and left, leaving the door wide open. Sighing to herself, Rogue clambered out of bed, quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and exchanged her nightshirt for something more acceptable. Glancing at herself quickly in the mirror to check and see if her hair was under control, she exited her room and wandered down the hall. She brushed her fingers through the minor knots as she walked to better her appearance before she stood before the professor's door.

"Come in," he voiced from the other side of the closed door. Rogue blinked at his impromptu response when she had thought she was moving quietly. Gripping the door handle, she slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. "Good morning, Rogue," he greeted. Rogue hadn't thought that she had told him to call her Rogue in place of Anna Marie.

"'Morning, professor," she mumbled in response. "Ah heard you needed me?"

"Yes. I'm sure you've noticed by now that this school isn't normal."

Rogue was sure that the two of them had been over this when she first arrived. Of course it wasn't normal; that was the reason why someone with her particular talents was housed in the mansion instead of sticking with her foster mother. "Yeah." She might as well grace him with a response.

"Before the regular school curriculum starts this year, I'd like to introduce you to a little project," Professor Xavier continued.

She didn't know what to think. "Okay."

"Come, child, follow me." He wheeled himself away from his desk, through the room, and waited at the door. "Would you mind opening the door? I could manage, but -"

"Sure," Rogue interrupted, striding past him to open it wide enough for him to pass. "Where are we goin'?"

"You'll see," Xavier replied vaguely. He zipped past her to an elevator, pressing the button in order for the doors to open. Once inside, he pressed a button to take the pair to a lower level, one he had told Rogue where the more boring aspects of the secondary school was located. Rogue hadn't seen the basement before, but it certainly wasn't what she was expecting. The hallways were made of a shiny metal, almost reflecting their images back at them. Xavier, unperturbed by the environment, continued to lead Rogue to a specific room. "This is the observation room," he told the girl.

Rogue walked up to the large bay-type window at the end of the room, peering through the glass into the massive room below. "What room is that?"

"We fondly call it the Danger Room," he answered. "Inside is the senior team preparing for a training session."

"They sure are dressed funny." Rogue snickered at their tight ware. Six students congregated in the middle of the room, only a couple of which she actually recognized. The burly boy from before was in there, as was the red head that fetched Rogue from her room. 

"You see, this school is more than a secondary school," Xavier plowed forth as if Rogue had never interrupted him. "Every one of us has a special power" Rogue tossed him an alarmed look. _'You are not alone, Rogue,'_ he said. Though he didn't actually say it; his mouth never moved. Instead, Rogue heard his voice _inside his head._

"Ah ... Ah don't get it," Rogue stammered.

"Inside of this school, we learn how to use our powers and how to work in a team to benefit mankind," the professor continued. "They are called the X-Men."

"They ain't so manly." Rogue cast another glance down into the room, her eyes catching on the stark white wings of a blond headed boy. She hadn't seen him in the living room with everyone else - everyone that looked normal - the night before. "Her especially." Her eyes flicked from the winged boy to the red headed girl.

"Jean? She was a little later to join the team." Xavier turned the wall-sized console, which Rogue guessed was to control the Danger Room below. He typed a few things in to the program, and then spoke into a microphone in order to explain the scenario to the children. Rogue heard a man with a visor over his eyes shout back an affirmative before he turned to the team.

"Professor? Will Ah evah be doin' that?" she questioned, finding the idea a little exciting once she got past the idea of not being alone. She couldn't touch people, but that winged boy probably couldn't just walk around in the city with those large wings attached to his back. 

"In time, yes," Xavier responded. "But until then, you are not allowed in the Danger Room. Once we start training you, you may only enter with supervision. Do you understand?"

Rogue nodded, her eyes still glued to the crowd below. One of the boys, taller than everyone else, had a glimmering skin, almost like the walls of the hallways outside. "Yeah. Ah'm not fixin' ta do it anytime soon."


	3. 3 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Youth. n. 1. the condition of being young, immature, or inexperienced 2. the appearance, freshness, vigor, spirit, etc., characteristic of one who is young 3. the time of being young; early life 4. the period of life from puberty to the attainment of full growth; adolescence 5. the first or early period of anything 6. a young person

"Y'know, you really should try gettin' t' know da others," Remy pointed out abruptly to Rogue. He pulled a chunk from his piece of toast, stuffing it in his mouth as he raised his unusual red-on-black eyes to her. She had been startled at first to discover this unique mutation, but she had gotten to know him at least slightly before they were revealed to her. The night he had come into her room during the New Year's party was too dark for her to see him properly.

Rogue set her spoon down, throwing him a contemplating look. "Ah'm not the all-out social gal, Sugah."

"'Xactly why you should know da others," Remy mumbled around his piece of toast. He swallowed, leaning in closer to her. "Dey ain't dat bad, chere. I ain't one t' get close t' anyone, but I feel comfort'ble enough 'round 'em." His accent almost left Rogue swooning. It was definitely southern by origin, she decided, but she couldn't place it exactly; she hadn't done a lot of traveling before moving to Salem Center.

"Okay, how many 'othahs' are there?" Rogue asked, lifting her chin in defiance. 

Remy paused, his brows knitting together and his eyes flicking to one side. Eventually he held up his hands to count on his fingers as he mumbled names under his breath. "'Leven. Not countin' you or me."

Rogue leaned against the counter, picking her spoon back up and returning her attention to her breakfast. "How 'bout let's start with who Ah know," she suggested. She saw Remy nod in her peripheral. "There was one big guy that pulled me into the room at New Years. What's his name?"

"People call 'im Hank," Remy replied promptly. "Kinda da brain 'round here."

"And then there's the red head girl. Ah think the prof called her Jean?"

"Yup." Remy's voice was clipped, like he wanted to say more, but didn't. Rogue tossed him a quick look and he grinned back at her. "You'll see her hangin' out wit' slim brunette. Goes by name o' Scott."

"Umm ..." Rogue shoved some food in her mouth. "Ah think I remember this other real tall guy. When the prof showed me the Danger Room, he turned inta metal." Rogue couldn't keep the awe out of her voice; someone that could change their epidermis so completely had to have been one strange mutant.

"Colossus? He's Russian. His name's Piotr, but we all call 'im Peter. Y'know how Asians always get der American names? We Americanized 'im." Remy laughed quietly to himself as he helped himself to another slice of toast.

"So that's what? four people? You said there's eleven?"

"Ya. Soon's I'm done wit' dis toast an' you wit' your cereal, I'll drag ya 'round t' see everyone, d'accord?"

"Alright, fine," Rogue replied huffily. She couldn't tell Remy that she was at least partially excited. Especially since discovering her powers, she hadn't had contact with anyone enough to even talk to them. Remy was the first person that initiated a friendly conversation with her for a couple of years and it was relieving to say the least. 

Remy wasted no time in dragging her around. As soon as she finished off the milk in her bowl, he grabbed her around the arm and dragged her out of the room. Rogue almost exclaimed for him to watch out for her skin, but he appeared to have that under control. Whereas she didn't have a pair of gloves on, Remy did, though she had no idea of where they came from. So once they had their momentum, going down the hallway, he shifted his soft grip to her hand, holding it like someone who cared. 

"Here's where most everyone likes t' hang out," Remy stated, pulling her into a room. Sure enough, a group of teenagers sat around in front of a television. Two had remote controls in hand. "Excusez-moi!" Remy shouted into the room, causing a couple pairs of eyes to draw towards him. "Found someone y'all might like t' meet." Rogue's eyes flew open wide at his straight forward attitude and found herself shrinking into his side a little.

A smaller boy stood up from the couch upon which he was sitting, pausing the game he was in the middle of. "Hi! Rogue, isn't it?" Rogue nodded at him. "I'm Bobby." Having heard of her particular brand of mutant powers, he didn't offer a hand, but a big smile. 

"I'm Alison," a young girl piqued up. 

"Elisabeth," another purple-haired girl added.

"Hi," Rogue replied. She made quick work of pairing their faces with names, though she doubted she'd be able to remember everyone right off the bat.

"Sean Cassidy," a curly carrot-top greeted. His accent was most definitely foreign.

A tall white-haired girl with African features walked up to Remy and Rogue as well. She flashed a quick smile to Remy before settling her blue gaze onto Rogue's face. "I'm Ororo," she said. "It is nice to finally meet you." Rogue nodded, unsure of how to respond to her greeting.

One boy hung back until all of the other hellos were said. Once Rogue's eyes fell onto him, she blinked in surprise. She had thought that the winged man would have problems blending in, but this boy was completely blue. Pulling her hand out of Remy's and maneuvering around the crowd to get near to him, Rogue initiated her first greeting. "And who are you?" she asked in a friendly manner.

"Kurt," he replied. His voice held an accent as well. "Kurt Wagner." A smile snuck onto his face. "You're not afraid?"

"Why would Ah be?" Rogue challenged. 

"Because I don't look the same as everyone else." 

Rogue cast a glance behind her to study the crowd. "Ah don't think that's a problem anymore, Sugah." She owed one to Remy now. It was only because of him that she could even think of smiling. Yet here she was with a broad smile on her face to match everyone else's. 


	4. 4 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strawberries. n. 1. the fruit of any stemless plant belonging to the genus Fragaria, of the rose family, consisting of an enlarged fleshy receptacle bearing achenes on its exterior 2. the plant itself 3. slang. a pimple from drinking excessively

“How’d you do it?” Rogue asked abruptly.

Remy blinked. “Wha?”

“Ah couldn’t get close ta anyone for years, and then you come along and get me ta open up,” Rogue explained. “How’d you do it?”

“A little charm goes a long way, chere,” Remy replied. He accompanied the line with a wink.

“Ya ain’t as good as ya think, Sugah,” Rogue shot back humorously. Despite what she said, Remy probably had it spot-on. His affable behavior allowed her to climb out of her protective shell within a very short period of time. He knew how to humor her and how to keep her interested, but she had a nagging feeling that he was also capable of much more and was simply toying with her. He had some minute control over her that Rogue should be wary of. The boy did well in keeping some hidden layers.

Something flickered in Remy’s eyes, then, something more than good will. “I’ll keep dat in mind.”

Alison barged into the room at that point, cutting off further conversation. Both Remy’s and Rogue’s eyes shot to her thin form. “Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting you?” Neither of the couple answered. “Oookay … you sure know how to make a girl feel welcomed. I’ll just scoot on out—” She turned to leave, though didn’t move any farther than she had to when Remy finally answered.

“Don’t bother, Ally. Rogue an’ me were jus’ goin’ out, see da sights. We were jus’ talkin’ ‘bout where we’d go. Ain’t a big town wit’ many excitin’ t’ings, though. Any suggestions?” Rogue blinked at how believable Remy’s story was in such short notice.

When Alison turned an inquisitive look on Rogue, however, she whipped the shock off of her face and smiled. “Best ta get knowin’ where Ah’m livin’,” she supplied helpfully.

“You’re asking me? I didn’t think you were interested in what I liked.” This was all directed at Remy, whom shrugged.

“I tend t’ hang out wit’ da shady bunch.” Rogue was beside herself with surprise at this revelation. She didn’t think that Remy was a bad character in the least bit. “Rather not corrupt her so early, ney?” Alison nodded as if such a thing to come out of Remy’s mouth was expected, further baffling Rogue.

“We always wonder what you do,” she commented.

Remy grinned. “Ain’t not’in’ excitin’.”

Alsion leaned in and lowered her voice. “Do you deal drugs?” Her eyes shifted to take in Rogue’s face as if in some form of threat to never relay her inquiry.

 _“Dat’s_ da rumor flyin’ ‘round? Mon dieu, chere!” He shook his head at the audacity of his peers. “Non non. It’s uh, family business.”

“I didn’t think you had family,” Alison replied. She stood back up with a guarded expression. Rogue looked between Remy and Alison, completely in the dark.

“It’s debatable.”

“Ally, right? We jus’ need ta know if you have any ideas for sight seein’.” Rogue moved to grab Remy’s hand to pull him away, but stopped herself short; she didn’t own a pair of workable gloves. Instead, she stood up alone, hoping the other two would follow suit. Allison was already standing, but Rogue needed her to lay flat her bristles.

“There’s a moody café in town. Dark atmosphere; cheap, but good food.” She crossed her arms over her chest and changed her stance to something more stable.

Remy rose to his feet with the grace of a cat. “Merci,” he tossed to Alison with a cherry voice. He didn’t look at the blond as he left, Rogue quickly following him.

“Remy?” Rogue asked as they came down the hall. They moved in a leisurely pace through the mansion. “What was that?”

“Best not t’ get into it, Rogue,” Remy replied. “I jus’ di’n’t come from a pampered family ‘fore comin’ here.”

He stopped in front of Rogue’s room. “I’ll meet ya down by da door?” He paused. “You got a coat?”

Rogue shook her head. “Never crossed mah mind ta have a big, fluffy thing like y’all got here,” she explained. “Ah thought you only came up with a story to … Ah’m not sure.”

“T’ get rid of her?” Remy smirked. “You sayin’ I’m a liar, den.” Rogue blinked at his thought process. “See, I’ll be a gentleman an’ take a pretty lady out. Maybe buy her some appropriate clothes, ney?”

“Ah don’t wanna cause trouble,” Rogue protested. Remy was talking money now—his money—and she felt it was hardly fair to him.

Remy began leader her in a new direction. “Nonsense,” he argued. “I woul’n’t be suggestin’ it if it was a bother.” He placed his hand on a door knob. “In da meantime, you wear my coat.”

The room they entered into was rather plain. Remy had a few garments hanging on the furniture, but it was in an organized manner. His bed was made, the curtains were open and he had a nice view of the grounds.

He nodded toward the door from the middle of his room, his fingers fumbling with his shirt. "Got my coat on da back da door."

Rogue turned around to close the door, reaching up to pluck his long brown coat off a hook. She faced him again, slipping it on. "It's warm," she commented.

Remy didn't reply as he pulled a tight pink shirt over his head. The sleeves were black with a wide stripe of pink rectangles running down the sides. "That looks like the costumes the others were wearin'." It was two different colors and in a completely different pattern, but it had the same feel.

"'Cause it's my costume," Remy replied, replacing his shirt from before over top of the pink. "Uniform, in a way o' speakin'. Keeps me warm while ya got my coat." Rogue's face flashed hotter. "Don' you worry none, chere," he said in response as he pulled on a pair of incomplete gloves; a few of the fingers on each side were missing. "I don't get cold much easy."

Remy escorted her through the mansion again. "How are we gettin' ta town?" Rogue asked once they made it out the front entrance.

"I got a bike. Ya don't mind?" An unspoken 'do you?' lingered on the end of his question.

"In this weather?"

"Ain't no snow or ice on da ground," Remy reasoned.

Rogue's face projected her uneasiness. "Ah dunno ..." She didn't even know if he was allowed to operate the vehicle; she had assumed Remy was her age. Even if he had his license, he couldn't have had much experience on the road.

Remy stepped in closer to her, grabbing her softly around the wrists through his coat. "Live a li'l, chere. You don' want me coaxin' Scott t' drive us t' town." Rogue didn't know if that was a threat or not.

"You sure?"

"Always." Without waiting for a firm affirmative, he dropped his hold to trot off. "I'll be right back!"

Rogue didn't have much choice but to stay in place unless she would act stubborn and follow him. Instead, she stood awkwardly on the driveway, holding herself to ward off the cold. In truth, it wasn't that cold outside, but as she allowed her mind to wander, she felt the chill that much more.

Eventually Remy came around again, easing his bike around the yard. As he pulled up to Rogue, he tossed a helmet her way. Only quick thinking allowed her to catch it rather than allow it to bounce off of her and fall ungracefully to the ground. Before she moved to pull it on, however, she caught sight that Remy didn't have one. "Don't you think you should have a helmet?" she inquired.

"Jus' put it on an' let's go!" Remy grinned at her, knowing full well that he had successfully avoided her question. Feeling self-conscious, Rogue put the helmet on, climbed onto the bike behind Remy and awkwardly wrapped her arms around his waist. "Hold on tight," he suggested before taking off.

Rogue's teeth were chattering by the time Remy parked his bike. During the ride she had tucked her head down into his shoulder blades, not thinking about how uncomfortable it would be for him. Shaking the chill out of her fingers, Rogue plucked the helmet off of her head and held it out, staring at it. "What do Ah do with it now?"

Remy wordlessly snatched it out of her hands and set it on the bike seat. "Dat works."

"You sure?"

"Nope, but we'll see, n'est-ce pas?" He started walking off, throwing the question out the window. "First we gonna grab a bite t' eat. Den we look for somet'in' you can wear da rest da winter. An' somet'in' t' cover dos hands o' yours." He glanced over his shoulder to look her in the face. "Alright?"

"Ah guess," Rogue replied skeptically. "You don't have ta ..."

"'Course I don't," Remy asserted. "Someone's gotta do it."

Remy had no problem in finding the club Alison mentioned, unless it was a place he frequented and Rogue didn't know. Remy ended up ordering her a strawberry drink and nothing else. "You gonna starve, y'know," he warned her.

"Nah. Ah'll survive fine." Remy tossed her an unconvinced look, but didn't push the topic further.

"An' now, we find you a nice coat an' gloves," he announced. Rogue looked down at her drink. "Finish it on da go."

"That allowed?"

"Prob'ly not." Ever-daring, Remy led her into a store, giving her free reign of the stock. Rogue took her time in choosing her own mock-leather coat, but quickly plucked a thin pair of gloves shaded a healthy green. "All ready?"

Rogue looked down at her choices. "They look alright?"

Remy scoffed, taking the garments gently from her hands and walking it up to the lady at the register. "Dey fine, chere. You worryin' me wit' all yer worry." The twinkle in his eye and the smile on his lips said differently.


	5. 5 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luck. n. 1. the force that seems to operate for good or ill in a person's life, as in shaping circumstances, events, or opportunities 2. good fortune; advantage or success, considered as the result of chance 3. a combination of circumstances, events, etc., operating by chance to bring good or ill to a person 4. some object on which good fortune is supposed to depend

"Are you ready, child?" Ororo's voice permeated through Rogue's partially opened door.

"Ah ... Ah dunno. Ah almost feel like Ah'm naked," Rogue answered. As a finishing touch, she pulled on the pair of gloves Remy bought for her. Feeling nervous with her appearance, she hesitantly opened her door to show Ororo her brand new uniform.

A broad smile pulled across Ororo's face and her blue eyes sparkled. "Don't worry yourself; you look wonderful."

"Speak for yaself," Rogue muttered under her breath. Ororo's costume was black with gold accents. An unobtrusive cape draped off her shoulders, which connected to her wrists--very classy. Her top was cut right above her breasts, her midsection was hardly covered and a large portion of her toned thighs were showing. It was fashionable as far as costumes went, but Rogue doubted it'd be acceptable at any place but here.

Rogue's costume, on the other hand, covered most of her body. It was still skin tight, but hers was green with white accents. A hood hung from around her neck and a white stripe ran down her front, splitting off into two around her waist.

As the two young women walked through the mansion to get to the Danger Room, Rogue asked a sudden question that came to mind: "Aren't the X-Men a team?"

"Yes." Ororo appeared confused.

"Ah thought teams were dressed the same."

"We've tried that before," Ororo replied with humor; "it wasn't very popular among the students."

She opened the door to the Danger Room. Suddenly feeling jittery, Rogue stepped inside the strange room for the first time. Half of the residents of the mansion were already inside. "We are the junior team," Ororo announced. "I'm Storm, this is Iceman, Psylocke, Dazzler, Gambit, and Nightcrawler." She motioned to Bobby, Elisabeth, Alison, Remy and Kurt respectively.

"Ah have ta remember more names now?"

Kurt grinned. "It won't be hard to remember. We are code named the way we are for a reason. Even him." Kurt pointed to Remy with a laugh. Remy's expression remained flat, suggesting Kurt's joke wasn't that funny.

"So what's the scenario today?" Bobby asked Ororo. Nearly everyone looked up to her for leadership, and for obvious reasons in Rogue's opinion.

"I have put the choice in Banshee's hands today," she replied. "I told him to keep it calm for Rogue's sake."

Rogue's face grew hot. "Ah dunno how ta fight none," she announced self-consciously.

"Stick by me an' you'll be fine," Remy suggested, stepping in closer. Ororo cast him a coded look, but Remy's inaction did nothing to help Rogue solve it.

"Actually," a voice crackled over the intercom, "Ye won't be workin' with Rogue." Rogue thought she recognized the faceless speaker as Sean. "I've split this session up int' a race. Storm leads one team and Nightcrawler another. Psylocke, Dazzler an' Rogue are with Storm. Gambit and Iceman are with 'Crawler."

Kurt struck a distraught face. I"m at a disadvantage," he muttered.

"If I wasn't working the booth, lad, I'd join ye," Banshee consoled. "I'll be settin' up for a maze for ye. In the center will be the prize t' end the simulation. First team to reach it wins."

"Sounds simple," Rogue commented.

"Banshee with throw in some obstacles," Elizabeth warned. "And just because we have more people doesn't mean we'll win. Banshee split us up according to how we challenge each other. Nightcrawler and Gambit are quick and Gambit is impervious to my powers without difficulty."

"What do ya do?"

"I'm a telepath."

"Are the teams ready?" Banshee's voice cut in.

"Ja," Kurt replied immediately.

"Lass?"

Ororo studied Rogue for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Luck t' the lot o' ye," Banshee called cheerfully.

"Auf wiedersehen-- _at the end of the course!"_ Kurt taunted before a wall was erected between the two miniature teams.

"We need to move," Ororo pointed out. Mossy walls surrounded them on all sides, but the ceiling above was crumbling. "Nice of him to trap us." Ororo's voice was tight and Rogue could tell that she was holding back panic.

"Sure wish I had Nightcrawler's powers right now," Alison muttered.

"No need," Ororo brushed off. "I can fly us up."

Rogue felt extremely out of place. All around her, her teammates had powers that would help them. Rogue simply had to touch someone to make them comatose.

A whorl of air started around the condensed team. Gasping out loud, Rogue clutched onto the nearby Psylocke. Eventually their feet lifted off the ground to be carried through the ceiling's hold. Touching down softly, Storm's effects disappeared.

"Watch your steps," Storm warned. "Dazzler, lead the way please."

"I can't light up often because I don't have a lot of sound stored up," Alison explained. "If we run into the boys, I won't be able to fight well if it's gone."

"A lot of ifs," Psylocke commented. "But if we don't hurry up, we won't even see them until this is over."

Small sparks of light emitted from Dazzler's fingers, briefly illuminating the long cavern.

"Ovah there!" Rogue spoke up. "Ah see a way out." She began walking forward.

"Rogue! Wait!" Storm's voice rang out too late as the floor began to disintegrate under Rogue's moving feet. In a flash of speed, Ororo flew forward and cusioned Rogue's fall to the ground.

Slightly dazed, Rogue called out, "Ah found another way." Storm beckoned for Alison and Elizabeth to follow the fallen girl. The room was shiny, small and had only one locked door. "It won't open."

Storm wordlessly moved to the door and squatted down so that she was level with the handle. A pair of lock picks in her hands, she made quick work of the door, allowing it to swing open into another chamber. 

"It looks like something out of a horror movie," Psylocke commented. Her nose wrinkled at the dead bodies strewn about down the hallway. Blood covered the wall, sometimes in smears, other times in thick, dripping patterns. "Did Banshee think of this?"

"No time to question it now," Storm said as she tiptoed down the hall through the maze of limbs. "There's another door at the end of this."

Rogue felt revulsion at the scene in front of her, but she followed suit with the rest of the team and made her way down the corridor. At one point she slipped in a pool of blood and nearly fell on top of a decaying body, but she was able to straighten herself before ending up in his lap. "Are the simulations always so real?" she croaked as Storm opened the new door.

"State of the art technology," Alison supplied unhelpfully. 

"What's in there?" Psylocke asked, trying to make out the new challenge in the new room.

"It's dark, but I think it sounds like water," Storm replied.

Dazzler lit up again in order to aide the team's visual. The move was instantly regretted when the light reflected back at the four of them with a harsh furiousity. They let out cries of surprise and pain, each moving to cover their eyes from the obtrusive light. 

"Did anyone see what was inside?"

"I think Storm was right."

"What?"

"That's water in there."

"That wouldn't cause the increased severity of Dazzler's light," Ororo pointed out. 

"Anyone want to be the sacrificial lamb?" Dazzler asked. She was still wiping the pain of the light out of her eyes. 

"Ah'll do it ..." Rogue offered quietly. No one spoke for a second.

"I don't think she meant it," Storm explained.

"Oh, no, I meant it," Dazzler contradicted. 

"I don't approve of it." Storm sent a more or less smug look at the younger girl. 

Rogue stepped forward and reached her toes out to where the floor would be in the opposite room. The resistance was minimal, suggesting that the theory of water wasn't far off. "We can't be stuck here. This is a race, right?"

Storm didn't appear completely convinced, but she didn't disagree. Lowering herself slowly into the water, Rogue floated around near the door. "Ah can't feel the bottom. Hope y'all can swim." Flipping onto her back, Rogue kicked slowly in the opposite direction from the door in which she entered. She would have to find a wall at some time or another. Judging by the intensity of the light that was rejected into the groups' face, the room wasn't that large, either. 

"Can you find the door?" Alison asked after a few minutes.

"No," Rogue answered. "Ah found walls, but no door."

"The other team is getting close," Elizabeth suddenly commented.

"Rogue--" Storm began talking, but was interrupted when the second door in the water-filled room opened. More light spilled into the room, but it appeared to be eaten up by the darkness of the place.

"Hey! Hey! I'm falling!" A large splash resounded in the room, growing increasingly louder until it suddenly disappeared. "Oh, not cool, Bobby. It'll take hours for me to dry out." Chuckling quickly accompanied Kurt's accusation.

Rogue turned to swim back to her team, thinking another way would be better than this if the other team ended up in the same spot. Reaching the ledge, she pulled herself up, helped with her teammates. "Ah don't think this is the way," she said.

"Rogue?" Remy's voice this time. "Ain't dis a surprise."

"What if Sean set us up on a wild goose chase?" Psylocke mused. "There was no end in sight from the very beginning?"

"Would someone get me out of here?" Kurt complained.

"Get yerself out, homme," Remy replied.

"I wouldn't weed it out as an option right now," Storm answered Elizabeth. "But for right now, let's see if we can find another way out of here."


	6. 6 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poncho. n. A blanketlike cloak with a hole in the center to admit the head, originating in South America, now often worn as a raincoat. 

"Brr, why is it so cold right here?" An unfamiliar voice wafted past Rogue's closed door.

"I don't feel anything, Warren," Ororo replied slyly. 

"Do you _ever_ feel the cold?"

"Yes." The footsteps continued, but instead of it being two pairs, only one continued. 

A knock sounded on Rogue's door. "Hello?"

"Ah'm here," Rogue replied as she quickly shut the window. When she turned around, the face behind the boy's voice stood in her doorway. Wings were silhouetted behind him. "Can Ah ... have we met?"

"Not officially," the winged boy answered. "I'm Warren." He didn't wait to hear her name, but gestured toward the window. "Any reason you have your windows wide open?"

"Ah guess Ah like the sound of rain." Rogue shrugged and briefly jerked her eyes away. She didn't know the exact reason as to why she had the window open, protecting her and the other residents from the unforgiving weather. The dying wind made her cold and she could hardly feel her extremities, but it hardly seemed to matter.

Warren stepped inside her room completely, slowly closing the door behind him. "Home sick?" he guessed. 

Thinking about it, Rogue didn't think he was far off. "Ah guess. Ah'm not used ta the cold." She turned her back on him to stare back out into the inclement weather. "Rain ... that's not unusual."

Rustling indicated Warren's movements, but Rogue wasn't aware that he was moving beside her until he actually was. "I love to fly in a gentle rain when it's warm," he commented. His eyes were lost in the rivulets of water as they flowed down the glass. After a moment, he took attention to Rogue again. "Are you wearing a raincoat?" 

Rogue grabbed the material of her makeshift poncho in her hands. "Naw. It's a ... it's a shower curtain. Ah have a coat now, but Ah don't wanna ruin it...."

Warren smiled. "If this weather keeps up, you might want to rethink that."

"Ain't got much of a choice, Sugah," Rogue replied huffily. "'Sides, we ain't gonna be outside much, are we?"

"Depends." He didn't elaborate further.


	7. 7 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Climbing the Roof"

"I hope everyone has their homework done," Kurt snickered over lunch. A couple kids, one of which being Bobby, exchanged glances with the demonic mutant. "What? I'm giving you a heads up. School starts up again in two days."

"You don' even go t' school, homme," Remy muttered. 

"Neither do you," Kurt shot back.

"You don't go ta school?" Rogue asked, surprised. Her gaze lingered on the undecipherable look on Remy's face.

"Nope. Wit' eyes like dis an' da way people so freaked out 'bout what dey don't know, me, Kurt an' Warren don' go," Remy explained. A grin finally began to crack his visage. 

"Like we have it that easy," Kurt muttered more darkly.

"It's better than dealing with people oggling at my wings," Warren cut in. 

"You think you have it bad?" Elizabeth questioned. "Sometimes I can't close out the little perverts' thoughts. You want those things running through your head?"

Remy bent his head forward, covering his mouth with a hand. "I deal wit' it."

"That is something we don't need to know, Gambit," Jean cut in.

"C'mon, admit it. You di'n't not expect it, mes amis." No one answered. "Someone had t' say it."

"No," Scott disagreed. A few snickers sounded around the room, including one from Rogue.

"Those thoughts are best kept to yourself, Remy," Storm agreed. 

"Stormy?" Remy cried out in mock disbelief. "You're sidin' agains' me?"

"Yes. Stop calling me that." The slightly bored tone to the girl's voice suggested that the subtle argument was an ongoing battle that began long ago. 

Remy stood up and shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. Mumbling around the food, he announced, "Den I leave you t' yer non-perverted t'oughts, 'ey?" Waving quickly, but allowing his gaze to linger on Rogue for an extra moment, he left.

"I don't know how you deal with him, Rogue," Alison pointed out once she figured he was out of earshot. "Sure, he can act all charming when he wants to, but otherwise he's ... Remy. He's definitely messed up. Well, a little," she quickly amended as soon as she caught sight of Rogue's irritated looks.

"His heart is in the right place," Ororo backed him up.

"Ah didn't think he was that bad," Rogue shrugged.

No one answered Rogue. No one really knew how to explain the slightly odd mutant. Instead of continuing an old conversation, Piotr spoke up for the first time and restarted what Kurt began: "Anyone have art next semester?"

"Ah don't think Ah'm hungry anymore." Rogue took her plate to the sink and went to leave the room. 

"Would you mind some company?" Ororo asked. She positioned herself just so to prevent Rogue from leaving the room without noticing her. "I've been a subject of his antics much longer than anyone here. I'll lend an ear for you."

"Sure," Rogue allowed. "Ah don't got much t'say."

"That is quite alright, child." She stayed silent as they made their slow way down the hallway. "I usually tend to my garden when I need to gather my thoughts. My plants need me, but I love them back." Rogue tried to keep from shooting Ororo a skeptical look, but she thought that Ororo caught on nonetheless. "We all have ways of gathering our thoughts without stepping on each others toes. Peter paints, Alison sings, but Remy normally withdraws from everyone."

"Why are ya tellin' me this?" Rogue wondered. She caught Storm's eyes, holding her gaze to search for the truth.

"I've noticed over the last week how quickly you two have grown together. I ... was trying to help you out before he unintentionally hurts you or you hurt him."

"Alright. So you made him mad just then?"

Ororo shook her head. "No. Given the choice, he'd leave the campus completely and come back a few days later. Confined as he is, he normally climbs on top of the roof to clear his head. I sometimes accompany him."

"What? You want me t'climb the roof?" Rogue's pitch rose with incomprehension. 

"I'm not saying that. Just understand that however you cope with sorting your head out, know I'll be there for you, wherever you go." Ororo lightly placed her hands on Rogue's shoulders. "With school coming up and new relationships to forge, even the strongest need help."

Rogue didn't know what to say. "Uh, thanks, 'Ro."


	8. 8 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirror. n. 1. a reflecting surface, originally of polished metal but now usually of glass with a silvery, metallic, or amalgam backing 2. such a surface set into a frame, attached to handle, etc., for use in view oneself or as an ornament 3. any reflecting surface, as the surface of water under certain lighting conditions 4. a surface that is either a plane, concave, or convex and that reflects rays of light 5. something that gives minutely faithful representation, image, or idea of something else 6. a pattern for imitation; exemplar 7. a glass, crystal, or the like, used by magicians, diviners, etc -v. 8. to reflect in or as if in a mirror 9. to reflect as a mirror does 10. to mimic or imitate something accurately 11. to be or give a faithful representation, image, or idea of -adj 12. capable of being played in retrograde or in inversion, as in read in a mirror placed beside or below the music

Rogue whisked her hands down her sides, lying the wrinkles in her shirt flat against her curves. Her eyes were glued to the lone mirror in her room as she pivoted her body to inspect it from multiple angles. Her face wasn't happy, but was far from it. "Nope," she murmured to herself, grabbing the bottom of the shirt with both hands. Pulling it over her head, she tossed the shirt onto the small pile on her bed. "An' that's all Ah have."  
  
A light knock on Rogue's door alerted her to a potential guest. Caught up in the surprise, Rogue grabbed for the coat Remy bought her and pulled it around her half-naked torso. "Who is it?" she called out.  
  
"Jean," the other person responded. "I understand you're having difficulties?" She waited respectfully for Rogue's response, but none come; Rogue was unsuccessfully fishing for a good way to respond. "May I come in?"  
  
"Uh, sure. Door's open." She wrapped the faux leather tighter around her form, overlapping the two sides of the coat where it would normally zip up.  
  
Jean stepped inside the younger girl's room, quickly shutting the door behind her. "It's kind of cold in the school, so I wouldn't suggest wearing anything too exposed," she began. Rogue saw her looking at the lumps of clothing on the bed, though she couldn't tell if Jean could distinguish each article.  
  
"Ah don't think Ah'd want t'show much skin anyway," Rogue confessed with a tiny shrug. "How's crowd control?"  
  
A sympathetic glance was thrown Rogue's way. "Not the best, especially after lunch and after school. A lot of people move slowly after school, though, so you'll want to move quickly in order to avoid the majority of everyone." She hesitated for a moment. "Scott could probably drive you back here."  
  
"Scott or what othah choice?" Rogue questioned. She hadn't thought of how she would get to and from the school.  
  
"The bus, really. The school's too far away to walk." She picked up a shirt from the mess. "I'll talk to him and find you in the morning tomorrow. Okay?"  
  
"Alright." Rogue wasn't sure if agreeing with the older girl was a good idea or not, yet she did it anyway.  
  
"You want to make a good impression on the people there," Jean stated as if reading Rogue's mind. For all Rogue knew, she was. "But you have limitations." She eyed the jacket Rogue was wearing. "Is that all you have?"  
  
Rogue glanced down the front of it, conscious of the thick material clutched between her fingers in order to preserve her modesty. "Yeah. Remy bought it for me last week."  
  
"About Remy ... watch out for him, please. He's a charmer and he's well aware of it." A small smile crept onto Jean's face before she was conscious of it enough to wipe it away. Rogue felt the seed of insecurity grow within her. Jean wasn't the only one that told Rogue to watch out for that boy. Even within a week she'd learned enough that Remy had quite a reputation and from the sounds of it, none of it was all that good.  
  
"Ah'll try."  
  
"You have a lot of green, yellow and black," Jean commented, switching the conversation to a new angle.  
  
"Ah guess." Rogue felt like she was going to end up wearing what Jean suggested, whether she liked it or not.  
  
"Have you ever tried pink?"  
  
"Pink?" Rogue repeated, slightly surprised. "Ah s'pose Ah have, but Ah ain't partial ta it."  
  
"You could borrow one of my blouses, if you'd like." Rogue was beginning to find the whole exchange rather creepy, seeing as Jean burst in and knew exactly where to start. She wondered if the girl often pulled off such a stunt.  
  
"Maybe," Rogue offered, trying to be neutral.  
  
Jean sorted through the other articles, only to find tops. "What do you have for pants. Although I think you'd look dashing in a skirt."  
  
"Ah dunno. Some jeans, pair'a yoga pants, don't know 'bout a skirt."  
  
Jean leveled a contemplating look at Rogue. "I don't think I have a skirt that would fit the look I'm thinking of. If all else fails, you could wear your yoga pants."  
  
"Um," Rogue began, but was cut off.  
  
"Let me go get my blouse." Before Rogue could say anything else, Jean disappeared to cater to Rogue's unspoken and subliminal wishes.


	9. 9 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Broken Promise"

Now that the time was drawing near, Rogue's nerves were beginning to pick up at a frightening pace. The blouse Jean had loaned Rogue looked nice and appropriate, but it wasn't her book cover that she was worried about. Even though winter had returned to Salem Center with a vengeance, Rogue doubted that she could wear gloves in school without large suspicions surrounding her. By experience, humans were a touchy bunch, but Rogue couldn't follow those rules lest someone end up in a coma.

"You look as white as a sheet," Jean observed. Her words snapped Rogue out of her painful worries.

"Ah do?"

"You'll be fine here, I promise," Jean consoled. It was easy for her to say; her mutant powers weren't physically manifested and she had the appearance of a demigod. Rogue wouldn't be surprised to see boys drooling after her.

"Here, sure. There, Ah wouldn't bet on it." Rogue deliberately twisted Jean's words as if the action would soothe her feelings.

Scott walked up on the two young woman then with hands stuffed in his coat pockets. "Are you ready?" he asked them, looking between them through his pick-shaded eye glasses.

"Ah s'pose or Ah'll nevah get movin'," Rogue answered. Jean smiled sweetly. 

The drive was fairly short and comfortable, if quiet. Jean and Scott kept glancing at each other in the front seat, though no words were exchanged. Rogue was happy to stare out the window as Scott drove without initiating conversation.

Scott parked in the student lot and opened Rogue's door for her. "Do you need someone to go to the office with you to pick up your schedule?" he asked.

"No," Rogue answered, "but Ah wouldn't mind if you came along. Ah don't know where any blasted thing is."

"I'll meet you in class," Jean excused herself. She gave Scott a quick peck on the cheek and then hurried off. "Good luck, Rogue!" she called before disappearing.

Coming upon the office, Scott held open the door for Rogue to enter. The secretary looked up. "How can I help you?"

"We're here to pick up a schedule," Scott announced.

"Name?"

"Anna Marie," Rogue said softly. Her eyes darted quickly to Scott's face.

"Last name," the secretary reiterated.

"Darkholme," Rogue supplied, her voice uncertain. How many new kids with the name of Anna Marie requested a new schedule for this to be necessary? 

The secretary shuffled through a few folders before addressing the waiting students again. "You'll need to fill this emergency contact form out and return it by the end of the week. There's also a couple more forms your parent or guardian must fill out to be returned." The folder holding these colorful sheets was closed. A final white sheet was placed on top. "And here's your schedule." Rogue grabbed the offered folder from the secretary.

"Thank-you," she said. Her eyes scanned down the list to read the classes for her remaining semester.

"Anything good?" Scott asked.

"Ah dunno. Algebra one, Biology, some gym class, an English class, American History, a computer class and a free period for studyin'."

"Which class are you? Freshman?" Scott held out his hand for Rogue's schedule, which she obligedly turned over.

"Sophomore," she contradicted.

"Oh, sorry. You said Algebra one ..."

"Ah haven't been t' school" --Rogue glanced around to make sure no one was around to overhear what she had to say-- "since mah powers manifested. Ah nevah took the class."

"It's not too bad of a class. I preferred Geometry over Algebra, though."

"Ah prefer no math," Rogue grinned.

"It's important to learn."

"Ah think Ah can prove you wrong." Remy had talked about Scott like he was some sort of disease, but Rogue couldn't find anything too bad about him. He had the air of a goody two-shoes about him, but at least he was being amiable. It was better than a few of the other students at the mansion could say.

"I'll take a rain check," Scott replied. He handed back her schedule. "I can show you to your classroom," he offered. "The bell will ring in about a minute and I don't think you want to be late to your first class."

"Thanks," Rogue smiled. "Ah'd appreciate that."

The school wasn't overly large, but to Rogue's unpracticed perception, it felt huge. Rows upon rows of blue lockers bled into the walls as if they were ungodly house decoration. Doors to classrooms were nestled snugly between sections.

"Ah don't think Ah got a locker," Rogue exclaimed suddenly.

"The locker number and combination should be on your schedule. Take a little time after school to check it out. Jean and I will wait in the parking lot." Rogue offered him a grateful smile. "This is your first classroom," Scott gestured. "Your second one will be just down the hall that way. I probably won't run into you in the day, but you can probably ask anyone for help if you need it. This high school isn't very large; your arrival isn't much of a secret."

"That was fast," Rogue commented.

"What else do they have to talk about?" Scott adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and turned his hips away. As if on cue, the bell rang. "Passing time is four minutes. I'll see you after school?"

"Yeah," Rogue agreed happily. "See ya, Scott."

"Bye."

Rogue's first couple hours passed in a blur. The teachers appeared to say the same things in each hour as students adjusted to the new semester. Rogue remembered vague panic each time the bell rang to switch classes, but she made it on time every time. Lunch turned out to be confusing as well, but Ororo came around to help the new kid out. Afterwards, the monotony of the repeated lectures continued.

When the final bell rang, Rogue let out a sigh of relief. So far no disaster had occurred and her nerves were finally beginning to die down. 

She took her time in finding her locker, which appeared to be erratically numbered. Pulling out her schedule sheet, she set to work on getting the combination right. It took her a dozen tries to open the locker for the first time. Closing it soon after, she quickly had the personality of the combination dial. Once she had it down, the hallways in the area had cleared to near silence. Shoving her newly acquired books onto the locker shelf, Rogue roughly shut the door. She gathered her backpack onto her shoulders and walked down the hallway. Once outside, she looked for Scott's unique glasses and Jean's glowing auburn hair. Students still hung about, talking in bunches, leaning on cars, but Rogue couldn't find anyone she recognized. Feeling a growing dread in the pit of her stomach, Rogue walked down the aisle Scott had parked in, searching for his car.

"He left me?" Rogue asked herself. She spun around, her eyes searching frantically for the tell-tale sign that Scott and Jean hadn't left yet.

Feeling completely abandoned, Rogue trudged back down the remaining row of vehicles.

"Hey, you alright?" Rogue glanced up to see a concerned face belonging to a short girl.

"Ah ... Ah don't know how t' get home," Rogue admitted.

"You're new here, right?"

"Yeah. Scott said he'd give me a ride home, but Ah'm thinkin' he left. Ah didn't set up any othah plans." She twisted her fingers around the strap to her pack.

"Y'know, I can't drive myself, but I think my boyfriend might be able to give you a lift. Where do you live?"

"Actually, Ah think if Ah can call home, I might be able t' hitch a ride with someone else." Rogue felt a little more optimistic at the though. "We're kinda out there."

"I have a cell phone," the friendly girl offered.

"Thanks." Rogue managed a smile. Taking the phone, Rogue struggled to remember the mansion's number. Punching it in, she let it ring.

"Charles Xavier speaking." The phone rang only three times.

"Ah ... Prof? Ah don't know how t' get home."

"Rogue?"

"Yeah. Scott said he'd wait for me, but--"

"I pulled him and Jean out early," Xavier explained.

"Oh."

"Have the buses left?"

Rogue looked around. "Ah don't see any."

"Alright." Xavier was silent for a moment. "I think Remy wouldn't mind picking you up. I would send Kurt, but he's still working on teleporting partners."

"Remy's fine," Rogue affirmed. "Can he bring mah gloves with him?" Even if he did drive something other than his motor bike, she already felt safer wearing them.

"Where are they?"

"In mah room on mah dresser," Rogue described.

"Okay. He'll be around soon."

"Thank-you, Prof. Ah wish someone would'a told me Scott and Jean were leaving."

"I'm sorry. Next time I'll have Jean or myself contact you. Remy's leaving right now."

"Alright. Bye."

Rogue snapped the phone closed and carefully handed it back over. "Thank-you," Rogue repeated.

"Got a ride?" the girl asked.

"Yeah. Should be here soon," Rogue confirmed. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself to warm up. "So, uh, what classes ya got this semester?"

"Nothing exciting. I have the usual and band. Study hour fifth hour."

"Oh! Ah have it that hour, too!"

The two girls continued in companionable conversation. Eventually the girl's boyfriend came over to leave, but they said they'd stay as Rogue waited for Remy.

Much to Rogue's expectations, he arrived on his motorcycle. As he took off his helmet, the girl leaved over to Rogue. "Is he your boyfriend? He's _hot."_

Rogue fought to keep her embarrassment down. "Nah. He's a friend." She waved Remy over. "Ain't it way too cold for that?"

"Aw, chere, it's all I got," Remy explained. "Beggars can't be choosers anyway." His gaze switched to the other two. "I hope she di'n't cause ya problems. She's new 'round here."

"I figured that out," the girl said, eyes sparkling.

Remy smiled largely. "Maybe we see you 'round, ney?"

"Maybe."

Remy's attention switched back to Rogue. "Ready?"

"Ah'm gonna freeze like a popsicle," Rogue murmured. 

"Really, Rogue!" He chuckled softly and pulled her gloves out of his coat pockets. "I brought your gloves like ya asked." He held them out.

Slipping the green material over her fingers, she nodded appreciatively. "Thanks."

"Jus' put the helmet on an' lets get home." Remy stepped away to fetch it.

"He isn't your brother, is he?" the girl whispered.

Rogue recoiled. "What? No!"

"He's hot," she repeated.

Rogue shook her head, catching the helmet when tossed to her. "See ya tomorrow?" she asked before climbing on the bike after Remy.

"Yeah!"

Wrapping her arms around Remy, Rogue snuggled up to his abnormally warm body. "You're crazy, Sugah."

"You jus' crazy for fallin' for me, chere," Remy shot back. He kicked the bike to life before Rogue could come up with a coherent reply.


	10. 10 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark. adj. 1. having very little or no light 2. radiating, admitting, or reflecting very little light 3. approaching black in hue 4. not pale or fair; swarthy 5. brunette; dark-colored 6. having brunette hair 7. (of coffee) containing only a small amount of milk or cream 8. gloomy; cheerless; dismal 9. sullen; frowning 10. evil, iniquitous, wicked 11. destitute of knowledge or culture; unenlightened 12. hard to understand; obscure 13. hidden; secret 14. silent; reticent 15. (of a theater) offering no performances; closed 16. phonetics a. (of an l- sounds) having back-vowel resonance; situated after a vowel in the same syllable b. (of a speech sound) of dull quality; acoustically damped -n. 17. absence of light; darkness 18. night; nightfall 19. a dark place 20. a dark color -v. 21. to make dark; darken

Rogue remained eerily silent as Scott and Jean led her out through the morning twilight and into Scott’s car. She didn’t want to come across as huffy or irritated, but in truth, she was. Xavier described Monday as an accident that could be quickly remedied should it ever arise again, but that didn’t account for his reasons.

Jean must have picked up on Rogue’s sour attitude. Rogue wasn’t sure if it was through her telepathy or empathy, but at least she was kind enough to break the silence and console the younger girl. “Rogue, you’re quiet this morning. Different than yesterday,” she amended. “Is everything alright?”

“Ah s’pose there’s no harm,” Rogue vaguely replied.

“Is this about yesterday?” Scott turned his ruby-glazed glance to the rearview mirror in order to get a better look at Rogue’s expression as he drove.

“If ya wanna know, yeah.”

“It wasn’t our fault we couldn’t uphold our promise,” Scott argued for himself and Jean. “The professor had the senior team pull out of school so that we could take care of a quick problem in New York. We’re the X-Men, Rogue. Things don’t normally go according to plan.”

Rogue figured it was a satisfactory explanation, but it still left her annoyed. Her closeness to Remy was bothering her, especially when he could sum up their recent relationship in so few of words and leave her speechless. She hadn’t known how to react to him when they arrived at home, so she quickly handed his helmet back and left to find Xavier to sort school papers out. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing him any time soon.

“You’ll wait for me after school today?” Rogue inquired. “An’ … contact me or something if you can’t?”

“Actually, no,” Jean said slowly. “You’re familiar with Nightcrawler?”

“Who?” A mental image flashed through Rogue’s mind at the name, but she wanted to make sure.

“Kurt Wagner. He’s rather … unique in appearance. Very blue, but full of energy.”

Rogue nodded her head. Her assumption definitely matched Jean’s short description. “What about him? Ah don’t think he can pull up in school an’ pick me up lookin’ like the devil himself.”

Jean pursed her lips. “You’re supposed to meet him in the stadium behind school after the final bell rings. He’ll be working one-on-one with you for a little bit as well as teleport you home. He’s been working on teleporting passengers lately, and he feels confident that he can safely take you back to the mansion in as few leaps as possible. Before that, he’ll be bringing your costume, which you can change into in the bathrooms around the stadium. No one should be bothering you in the middle of January.”

“An’ why are we doin’ this today?” Rogue looked suspiciously between the two senior X-Men.

“He wants to get to know you,” Scott answered for Jean. “You’re a team, Rogue. Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.”

“Uh-huh.” Rogue waited as Scott shifted the car into park in the school parking lot. As he pulled out the keys and simultaneously switched off the lights, she had the door open, and was on her way to her locker. She figured she’d have a long day ahead of her and she didn’t think Scott or Jean would help that at the moment. Better to jump into what needed to be done head first and struggle to keep her head up in the waves.

Fortunately for her, her classes kept her busy doing just that, leaving her no time to be anxious about her individual training session with Nightcrawler. By the time the final bell rang, all of the information was thrown back at her. She exited the building with mixed feelings, making her way slowly to the stadium. Upon arriving, she saw the mutant’s excited face.

“Guten Tag!” he called cheerily. “How was school?”

“Time consuming,” Rogue answered grumpily. “Ah don’t see why I need to learn half of this stuff.”

Kurt snorted back a laugh. “You’re telling me. I’m the one that can’t walk in public without a crowd running away and shouting ‘monster.’” Rogue’s gaze shot to her feet. “Ack, what am I saying? The way things are going at the mansion, I’ll be the go-to mutant when things go wrong. You would be surprised how applicable many of these classes can be.” He bumped something he was holding into Rogue’s arm. “Here. Go put these on. The bathrooms are over there.” He gestured with his three-fingered hand. “If they’re locked, just give me a little shout and I’ll help you inside.”

“Uh … thanks,” Rogue said, grabbing the costume material. Striding across the lightly blanketed ground, she easily opened the bathroom door. Frowning at the freezing temperature, she quickly pulled on the new set of clothes. She was surprised to find how warm they became upon wearing them. Stuffing her day clothes into her backpack, she met Nightcrawler in the middle of the stadium.

“You look nice, nicht wahr?” Kurt cheekily observed. “We even get to be on the same team this time.”

“Then what kind of trainin’ is this?” Rogue asked. She tossed her pack aside.

“Not everything is fighting, Fraulein,” Kurt smiled. “I’m sure Gambit or Storm would be a better teacher of this, but looking the way I do, I need to be incognito. In the night, I actually blend into the shadows to the point of invisibility. In the daylight, I have other tricks.”

“And how does this apply to me?” Rogue rubbed a finger across her eyes, crossing the other arm over her chest. Rogue didn’t have oddly colored eyes, though she did have unique hair, and she didn’t look like she came out of a horror movie; she blended in fine with the crowd at school and beyond.

Kurt’s devilish grin widened. “Because some of the X-Men’s objectives are low-key. You need to learn how to be unseen when it matters.”

“We’re kind of in the middle of an empty football field,” Rogue observed. She gestured at the surroundings before recrossing her arms over her torso.

“Ja,” Kurt agreed. “But we’re not going to stay here. _You_ are going to show _me_ your locker. In case of emergencies, grip tightly to the elf, promise not to barf, and we will be home shortly.”

“‘Promise not to barf’?” Rogue quoted.

“You’d be surprised at the reactions I get sometimes,” Kurt confided in her. “Ready?” Rogue nodded. “Los!”

“What?”

Kurt threw his head back, exasperated. “Go, meine Freundin. Like ‘follow after me’ or something.”

Rogue’s eyes lingered on him for another second. “Oh.”


	11. 11 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peripheral Vision. n. 1. all that is visible to the eye outside the central area of focus; side vision

"Again?" Rogue asked, fighting to keep a smile off of her face. 

Kurt didn't hold back, but beamed outright. "Ja, weider."

"An' can't Ah refuse?" Rogue joked. She still tried to keep her voice even, but light to keep from hurting him. From their short training session the day before, Rogue had learned how amiable Kurt's personality really was.

"Nein," Kurt grinned. "You're stuck."

"Guess Ah have to take drastic measures."

"I think you're right. I brought friends today."

"What?"

"I brought friends today," Kurt repeated patiently.

"Who?"

"Let me think.... Who out of both teams - besides me, that is - doesn't come to school due to appearances?" He looked Rogue square in the face, taunting her with his fanged smile.

"Remy?"

"Ausgezeichnet," Kurt snickered. "One down, one more to go."

Rogue furrowed her brow as she thought. "Uh ... Warren?" With wings on his back, it would be hard pressed for him to blend in with the crowd. Plus, she hadn't ever seen him around the halls, though that wasn't saying much.

"Got a brain on dose shoulders, chere," Remy complimented sarcastically. "Pretty an' brains."

Rogue spun around as Remy and Warren made their presence known. Both had their costumes on, Warren's being blue with a white swatch of fabric across the front as well as with white gloves and boots, Remy's being the one Rogue saw him in previously. They walked across the football field, their footsteps silent as they approached.

"How's the cold weather for you, Rogue?" Warren asked.

"Ah'm glad the costume keeps me warm," Rogue replied. "Dry, too."

"Amen," Kurt agreed. "Imagine how long it would take me to dry off completely." He lightly touched the fuzzy fur on his cheek.

"Could be worse, Kurt. You could be trying to dry out your wings. It gets harder to fly when you're weighed down by rain."

"Y'all are complainers," Remy declared. "We're X-Men an' we live wit' it, d'accord? Yah." He turned to Warren. "Monsieur Wings, you da senior member here, so you got da plan?"

Rogue switched her gaze to the still mysterious teammate. She was vaguely aware of Kurt doing so as well.

Warren shrugged and crossed his arms. "Let's play soccer."

"Fußball, hmm? You venture into dangerous territory, Amerikaner," Kurt replied snidely.

"Really?" Warren ruffled his feathers. "Then you're with Gambit."

"Qu'est-ce?" Remy asked, surprised. 

"Nightcrawler, how about you find us a ball to play with? I expect they would be in the gym." Warren continued as if Remy hadn't spoken at all.

"Uh, ja. Here's hoping I don't get lost." With that, he disappeared with the sound of imploding air.

The three remaining X-people remained silent for a moment until Remy suddenly spoke up: "I sure hope y'know how t' play soccer, chere."

Rogue glanced down at her feet before making eye contact a second later. "Act'ly, Ah wasn't ever that good. Okay, Ah guess, but Ah haven't played in a couple years now. Ah ain't exactly a gal that can put herself out there."

Remy cast a confused look in Warren's direction. "Fly-boy, I sure hope y'know how t' play. I ain't never seen you out an' about wit' da rest o' us b'fore. Kurt seems t' be in his element wit' dis game now, an' I gonna tell ya I ain't no push over, neither."

"Worried, Gambit?"

"Non. We gon' t' dribble circles 'round ya."

Warren uncrossed his arms. "Probably."

Rogue blinked; why would Warren put two of the strongest players together? Before she could ask, Kurt reappeared with the requested soccer ball. "There were people in the gym!" he accused loudly. "It's good that they were preoccupied."

Warren nodded and stretched his limbs. "One-on-one. We're using this half of the football field. The goal is the whole sideline on both sides. _No. Powers."_

"D'accord. You start wit' da ball, Rogue?"

Before Rogue could affirm or reject, Kurt tossed the ball in her direction. She caught the ball with her chest, her arms acting on reflex. As she dropped it to the ground and trapped it with her foot, Warren grabbed her shoulder to gain her attention.

"Play your best, use me, and keep yourself in the action. We won't win, but don't give up until the game is over."

"You planned for us t' lose?" Rogue asked. She barely kept herself from shouting.

"This exercise _is_ for you," Warren informed her. "I'm just relaying instructions." He took his hand away and looked beyond Rogue to the opposing team. "Let's start."

Kurt crept closer to Rogue on Warren's cue, keeping his steps nearly silent. Remy shifted sideways to cover whatever pass Rogue could have made to her teammate. Switching into game mode, Rogue kicked the ball backwards and backtracked a couple of paces. When she saw Kurt following her in her peripheral, she cut suddenly to the right, cutting the German off and avoiding his teammate. Warren shifted up the field, calling for the ball.

"Get there!" Kurt shouted. Rogue smiled before sending the ball after Warren with a hefty kick.


	12. 12 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scent. n. 1. a distinctive odor, especially when agreeable 2. an odor left in passing, by means of which an animal or person may be traced 3. a track or trail as or as if indicated by such an odor 4. perfume 5. the sense of smell 6. small pieces of paper dropped by the hares in the game of hare and hounds -v. 7. to perceive or recognize by or as if by the sense of smell 8. to fill with an odor 9. to hunt by the sense of smell, as a hound

"'No unauthorized experiments!'" Hank shouted, though it was more to himself than anyone around him. "Chemistry is about expanding one's knowledge base, challenging existing theories, and--"

"I'm sure dis is wonderful stuff, mon ami, but could ya _quiet down?"_ Remy snapped. He wasn't angry, but it was the most cross Rogue had ever seen him before. "You been goin' on 'bout dis every since ya got home. I ain't never been t' school an' don' know what you talkin' 'bout, but I know I ain't da only one."

"Let me put it into simpleton language: This is a big project. We're allowed to conduct our own experiments. Mine was rejected by the teacher."

"What do you plan on doin', Sugah? Burnin' down the building?"

"No," Hank replied curtly. "However, the chemicals I plan to use are extremely volatile, especially when amalgamated. I would use utmost caution around them, and she knows my lab technique--"

"Der ya go again," Remy cut in. "Shut. _Up_. Half dose words flew right o'er my head an' I di'n't care 'bout it in da first place."

"'It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it,'" Beast quoted in retaliation. 

Remy scoffed. "I could'a told you I wa'n't book smart. Dat ain't all dat matters."

"Why not talk to the teacher and tell her ... this," Rogue suggested. She gestured weakly with her hands before self-consciously crossing them across her chest. "Ah don't know anything about chemistry, but Ah don't want t' be an ass." She glanced pointedly at Remy as she put emphasis on the last word. "There ain't nothin' we can do. Ah'm sorry."

Hank sighed and thought about what Rogue said for a second. "Yes. You may be right. However, as said by our past president, Abraham Lincoln, 'be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm.'"

"Now you jus' rubbin' dis in my face."

Quickly entertaining a smile, Hank called over his shoulder as he turned to leave, "Perhaps."

"Ah get a strange feelin' you ain't the most popular mutant on the block, Sugah," Rogue taunted once Hank had left the room.

"Nah. Dey all jealous o' my outgoin' personality an' my ability to pick up da ladies."

"Ah dunno. Ah don't much wanna go an' pick _anyone_ up as it is."

"Non?" Remy asked. "What'd I ever do t' you?"

Rogue blinked. "Ah didn't mean it that way...."

Remy held up a hand. "Non. I bet you di'n't. 'Sides, dat mean you ain't jealous o' me. We get along fine, n'est-ce pas?"

Rogue pushed him lightly on the chest, walking away. "As long as you don't make any moves on me."

"Oh yah? When I makin' da moves on you, you know."

Rogue turned around at the doorway. "There a stench in the air, Remy, and it smells a lot like lies."

"Now you makin' no sense!"

"Think about it and Ah think Ah am."


	13. 13 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obsession. n. 1. the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc 2. the idea, image, desire, feeling, etc., itself 3. the state of being obsessed 4. the act of obsessing

"Ah'm a little worried about Hank," Rogue confessed to Scott and Jean on their way home from school. "He was fumin' about his chemistry class yesterday t' Remy and me, sayin' that the teacher won't let him expand his potential or something." Scott and Jean exchanged a glance, but didn't saying anything out loud. "Is this normal or something?"

"Well ... no," Jean said. "He can get wrapped up in his school work, but he doesn't normally get angry over it."

"Was this a one-time occurrence?" Scott asked.

"Ah don't think so. Ah passed by his room on mah way out the door and I don't evah remember it being a mess before. Ah don't mean t' be spyin' on him, but he had books and papers all over the floor, all unorganized and stuff."

Scott slowed the car as he came up to a stoplight. He thought to himself for a moment, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he stared intently at the light above his head. "As long as it doesn't interfere with his training and he doesn't hurt anyone, I won't butt in. It's his business."

"Yeah, Ah s'pose," Rogue reluctantly agreed. "Maybe Ah can help him by talkin' t' him ... say Ah need help with bio or somethin'."

"Biology _is_ his strong suit," Jean said. "I remember him talking about our mutations and how if he could isolate something or another, he could figure out the secret behind our mutations when we had class together. I never really knew what he was trying to say when he got into the details, though."

Rogue shifted in the car seat, staring out the window as the scenery whipped past the car window. "Maybe Ah can ask him out of the mansion this weekend and clear his head."

"You can try."

When Scott pulled into the mansion's driveway, Rogue quickly dropped her stuff off at her room. She intended to ignore any homework she got until Sunday, or at least until she got someone to motivate her. She intended to go straight to Hank's room, but decided against it so as to give him a little time to himself after school. While she waited to bug him, she hung out in the kitchen with Elisabeth. Once she decided that she had waited long enough, she politely excused herself and slowly walked to Hank's room.

She knocked lightly on Hank's closed door. 

"Yes?" Hank asked.

"Hey ... can Ah talk t' ya?"

She waited a few moments in silence, but was still startled when he opened his door.

"You can talk to me all night if you'd like. The question you want to ask is if you're allowed to."

"Um ... sure."

Hank stayed immobile in his doorway, not giving her entry nor chasing her away. Rogue wasn't sure if his behavior should be alarming or not. 

"Do Ah have your permission, Hank?" Rogue questioned when he didn't say or do anything else. She found the situation increasingly awkward, but she was determined not to show it.

"For future reference, permission questions are begun with 'may'." He stepped aside and shuffled toward his desk, sitting down on his worn chair.

Rogue followed him inside. "The month?" she asked.

"Close the door behind your, please," Hank said as if she hadn't said anything. Rogue paused and did as she was told. She then walked into the center of the room, and after a moment's hesitation, took a seat on Hank's unkempt bed. "What is it you'd like to discuss?"

"This ... this behavior ... attitude you have t' day, is it because of yesterday?"

"Am I not allowed to have a bad day?" Hank demanded.

"Ah'm not sayin' that you're not!" Rogue quickly defended herself. "It's not becomin' of ya, Sugah."

"Is any negative behavior?"

"Knock it off an' answer me straightly!" Rogue snapped. She blinked as soon as she realized that yelling at him would not help the situation in the least bit. "Look, Ah'm sorry. If ya want t' explain what you tried t' yesterday, Ah'll listen. It's probably a li'l late in offerin', an' I apologize, but Ah want t' give you a hand like you tried my first day here. Ah wouldn't know from experience, but Ah hear that gettin' somethin' off yer shoulders helps in settlin' a mind. Ah'm worried 'bout you, Hank."

Hank appeared to ponder it for a moment, but he eventually shook his head. "No. You said so yourself yesterday that you can't help me. I'm not going to pretend that some miraculous answer will materialize in thin air. I'll pass the class, graduate, and work on what I want in my own time or on a job."

"What is it ya want t' work on?" Rogue ask quietly.

"Honestly? In time, I want to understand our mutant genetics and isolate the causes behind our mutations. That isn't what my project in chemistry was about, however."

"Then why be so angry?" 

"I wouldn't call it anger," Hank began slowly. "Frustration would be a better word choice."

Rogue remained silent for a moment, studying the man in front of her. "Because someone said no? Lemme tell ya, Sugah, my whole life is a big no. Ya learn t' get over things."

"You've never had a burning question, the answer to which you must solve? The outcome to the question becomes paramount for your sanity, often bordering on obsession."

"Are we talkin' 'bout the same thing anymore?"

Hank sighed and shifted in his chair. "No, I suppose not. I'll get over it. In the meantime, I promise you'll I'll try my best in integrating back into society?"

Rogue blinked. "Yeah, Ah guess. See ya at dinner?"

"What's on the menu?"

"Good question. Ah dunno. How 'bout we go make our own menu?"

Hank hesitated. "As in, go out?"

"Why not?" Rogue grinned. "It's a Friday, an' Ah'm feelin' particularly sociable t'night. Don't tell me it'll be a first for both of us."

"Well ..."

"Then it's settled. Ah'll ... try t' figure it all out by six. Meet ya then?" She jumped up off his bed and whisked across his room to his door. "See ya, Sugah."


	14. 14 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School. n. 1. an institution where instruction is given, especially to persons under college age 2. an institution for instruction in a particular skill or field 3. a college or university 4. a regular course of meets of a teacher or teachers and students for instruction; program of instruction 5. a session of such a course 6. the activity or process of learning under instruction, especially at a school for the young 7. one's formal education 8. a building housing a school 9. the body of students, or students and teachers, belonging to an educational institution 10. a building, room, etc., in a university, set apart for the use of one of the faculties or for some specific person 11. a particular faculty or department of a university having the right to recommend candidates for degrees, and usually beginning its program of instruction after the student has completed general education 12. any place, situation, etc., tending to each anything 13. the body of pupils or followers of a master, system, method, etc. 14. a. a group of artists, as painters, writers, or musicians, whose works reflect a common conceptual, regional, or personal influence b. the art and artists of a geographical location considered independently of stylistically similarity 15. any group of persons having common attitudes or beliefs 16. parts of close-order drill applying to the individual, the squad, or the like 17. a group of people gathered together, especially for gambling or drinking 18. the faculties of a university 19. the schoolmen in a medieval university -adj 20. of or connected to a school or schools 21. of the schoolmen -v 22. to educate in or as if in a school; teach ;train 23. to reprimand 

"Ah'll pay ya back whenevah Ah get the money," Rogue promised. "Ah didn't come t' the mansion with a lot t' begin with."

"Consider it on the house," Hank declined. "I never had a reason to use whatever I've acquired until now. A pretty excuse such as yourself warrants a dip into my reserve."

_"And_ me with mah biology homework," Rogue mused.

"The pleasure is all mine."

"Ah'm sure it is." She pulled out her hefty biology book from her backpack and set it gently onto the cafe tabletop. Running her fingers along the pages, she flipped it open to a specific page, a piece of paper marking the spot. "It all sounds like a lot o' jibberish t' me." She flipped the placeholder paper to the backside. "The first page Ah get. Ah copy the definitions next t' the word an' Ah pick a letter in the multiple choice."

"Hold on. Go back," Hank instructed her. He carefully picked the paper from her hand and turned it around. "Dissociation would not include the original molecule. H-two-oh - or more technically, dihydrogen monoxide - is not an ion. Dissociation yields ions, which are molecules with a positive or negative charge."

Rogue looked over her choices in the multiple choice section of the worksheet. "Ah didn't say it was water."

"Oh, yes. You chose D, not B." He rubbed his chin. "Hydroxide, that OH ion, has a negative charge. Hydronium, H-three-oh, would be created with synthesis."

"So what is it?"

"Dihydrogen monoxide dissociates into a positive hydrogen ion and a negative hydroxide ion. Choice A." He handed the paper back and grabbed his drink. "This is chemistry, not biology."

"Well, Ah don't like either."


	15. 15 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teamwork. n. 1. cooperative or coordinated effort on the part of a group of persons acting together as a team or in the interests of a common cause 2. work done with a team

"Where is everyone?" Rogue asked. The dinner table was exceptionally empty.

"Missions," Kurt explained simply. "The senior team is dealing with some mutant terrorist crisis in New York, and Storm took a fraction of the junior team to deal with some big explosion or something." He shrugged. "I guess the junior team can be broken up and I'm a leader of the second fraction. So don't get in trouble or I'm responsible for you."

Alison settled herself into a dinner chair. "Afraid of responsibility, 'Crawler?"

"Nein, aber I would not speak if I was you," he retorted. "If I have to own up for your mistakes, consider yourself _dis_ owned."

"Touchy," she commented.

"Ja, touchy. Out of all the things I need, it is not a bad rep."

"I do _not_ have a bad rep!" Alison replied haughtily.

"... bar fights?" Kurt prompted.

Alison's expression instantly changed to the defensive. "Oh no, you don't! First off, that was a well to-do club. Second, I did not cause that ... that riot. I was _singing!"_

Kurt waved a dismissive hand. "But you still participated. I am a firm believer in fun, but not at the cost of our team." Alison opened her mouth to argue again, but Sean walked in and cut her off.

"Yuir voices get any louder, ye'll wake the whole town."

"Ah'd be surprised if anyone was sleepin' yet, Sugah."

"Why are you not with Cyclops and his team?" Kurt asked.

Sean took his time in answering. He gathered a plate full of food and only answered when he was settled in his chair. The three students stared at him expectantly. "They're gonna make it permanent, breaking up yuir team int' two," he announced. "If they're doin' that, yuir in need of another teammate, Kurt. My skills are covered on the senior team, so I volunteered t' give you a hand. I don't know if I'll be with _you,_ but we'll figure that out when Storm an' the' others come back."

"It doesn't bother you that you've been demoted?" Alison questioned off-handedly.

"No," Sean said firmly. "Like I said, lass, I volunteered."

"I guess that means they won't be doing any promotions," she mused.

"Probably not. Although I've seen yuir teamwork skills, lass, and you'll be wantin' t' work on that."

Alison's eyes flashed angrily, though she had the sense to keep quiet.

"Not just her. I think all of us need to learn to work together," Kurt said.

Rogue shifted in her seat. "Ah don't think we're that bad. Ah mean, we don't usually leave each othah high an' dry."

"Usually is not good enough," Kurt explained. "Und we need to cover each other's backs. Running around and staying out of each other's way is not good enough."

"It's the best Ah can do," Rogue mumbled.

"Doch!"

"We'll teach you how to fight, lass. You've been here for two weeks."

Kurt smiled and nodded. "If I'm your team leader, count me in on it," the blue boy promised. "I bet Storm would do the same.


	16. 16 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Water lily. n. 1. any of various aquatic plants of the genus Nymphaea, species of which have large, disklike, floating leaves and showy flowers 2. any related plant of the genus Nuphar 3. a plant of the water lily family 4. the flower of any such plant

"Hey, Rogue," Kurt called.

Rogue stopped on her way from the restroom. "S'up?"

"The professor wants us all in the debriefing room."

"Huh?"

Kurt smiled. "Are you busy?"

"Ah guess not."

"Komm mit! We're learning our new teams today. Right now."

"Oh!" Rogue gasped. "Ah forgot about that with school an' all."

Kurt grabbed Rogue's arm and excitedly pulled her after him. "I'm going to be a fraction leader!" he exclaimed. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to do.... I hope I'll make a good leader."

"Don't worry, Sugah," Rogue consoled. "Ah think ya know more than ya think."

"Danke," he grinned. He slowed his pace as they came up to the elevator. Pushing the button, he waited impatiently, his tail waving through the air. "But as Ally said yesterday, what if I'm not willing to take responsibility for my team?"

"Why wouldn't you? Anyway, if we're a team, we should take the blame as a team?" Rogue wasn't sure if she was saying the right things to reassure the other mutant. It wasn't typical of her to have hung out with many people before coming to Xavier's mansion. A lot of these experiences the past couple weeks were brand new to her.

Kurt hesitated over an answer as the doors to the elevator slid open. "In theory. When it comes to reprimand, I have a feeling that I will take the frontal assault." He pressed a button on the control panel after Rogue followed him in. "Some of these missions are very dangerous, too. I don't want it to be me to ... to have the first casualty as a result of poor leadership."

"Now Ah know you're bein' too hard on yaself."

"You think so?" Kurt demanded softly. "You have not been on a mission. You don't know how bad it can get. I don't mean to scare you, to discredit you, but I have lived this reality for a while."

Rogue didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. The doors slid open to the elevator, letting the two mutants out of the little box room. Kurt took the lead, guiding her to the debriefing room. The doors were open, revealing that most of the junior team was already present. The only one missing was Gambit.

"Did you tell Remy to meet us here?" Xavier asked Kurt.

"Ja, he's on his way."

"Thank-you. Rogue, would you take a seat?"

Bobby waved her over to an empty chair beside him. Hesitating for a moment, Rogue walked over, nodded her thanks, and sat. She shifted to make herself comfortable, and then stared expectantly at the door for Remy to arrive. Bobby chatted animatedly with Rogue, but the conversation was more one-sided than not.

Remy entered quietly and leaned against a wall by the door rather than sit down. As soon as the professor saw him, he called silence, and began.

"Sean has already told you the news, that the junior team is splitting into two. Because of this fissure, you will no longer be called the junior and senior team, but the gold, red, and blue teams. The red team will be lead by Storm and the blue team by Nightcrawler."

"How are we supposed to grow as a team if we're separated?" Psylocke inquired. "It's bad enough that you've put the best on their own, now bigger, team."

"You will still train as one, but on missions, you'll be-"

"Segregated?" Psylocke supplied.

"Remember that you are still students. This way no one should be overwhelmed with schoolwork and your responsibilities to the team. Depending on the assignment, different arrangements can be made.

"This way, more will be expected of you on the field without overwhelming you. Once school is over, we may rethink the team assignments, unless this exceeds expectations."

"Who are the teams?" Ororo asked.

"Storm will have Dazzler, Banshee, and Rogue. Nightcrawler will lead Iceman, Gambit, and Psylocke. If these arrangements do not work out as expected, they may be switched around, but I do not want to move people based on personal preference. Your goal as a team is to understand each other better than you understand yourself. Learn each other's strengths and weaknesses. If you have any problems, first try working it out with each other, and if that doesn't work, you may come to me. I want to see effort. I know this will be challenging, but I feel like you, as a team, are ready to take that challenge on."

"Verstanden," Kurt said in response. 

"We all ready t' go?" Remy asked. He pushed his body away from the wall in anticipation of leaving.

"One moment, Remy," Xavier declined. Remy spun on his heel and crossed his arms across the chest, staring the professor down. "Storm and Nightcrawler, you are in charge of the training schedules of your teams. You will come up with the exercises you need to run through to make sure that your team is ready for any call. However, you are not expected to carry the full weight of the team alone. You may talk to me, to the gold team, to each other, and amongst yourselves. I encourage it. This is something new for us, and I expect some errors. But we are the X-Men, and we will deal with those problems."

"Now we all good," Remy stated more than asked.

Rogue glanced over to him, her brows knitted together in confusion. She couldn't figure out why Remy would be in such a hurry to get out of the room. They had hardly been in the room for more than five minutes to begin with.

"Yes, you may continue your activities," Xavier dismissed.

Remy only managed to turn around before Ororo jumped from her seat to walk beside him. Rogue followed more slowly, trying not to make it obvious that she was interested in their interaction. Remy was acting strangely, and that made her more aware that she hardly knew this man. He had wormed his way into her life so well that she had forgotten how quickly he had done it. It hadn't been over the span of a few months; this was over the span of a couple weeks. Now mysteries were cropping up, and she couldn't help but be curious.

"Remy," Ororo said softly. He didn't turn his face to greet her, but he did walk more slowly than he had been preparing. "May I ask what is wrong?"

Remy shrugged, still not meeting her eyes. "Woul'n't say not'in' wrong. T'ings changin', not sure if I'm likin' dem."

Ororo placed a hand on his arm and pulled him to the side. Rogue had to force herself to keep walking down the hallway. Their quiet voices were quickly becoming harder to hear as she kept up her act. "Remy, think of it as ... rebirth. This isn't ..." Rogue lost her voice to Bobby's much louder one. Pretending not to be bothered, she waited as the rest of her teammates piled into the elevator to be carried up, Ororo and Remy staying behind.


	17. 17 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planting. -v. 1. to put or set in the ground for growth, as seeds, young trees, etc. 2. to furnish or stock with plants 3. to establish or implant 4. to introduce into a country 5. to deposit in a river, lake, etc.

Rogue tentatively knocked on the door leading into Storm's room. Ororo had told Rogue to visit her after she had finished her schoolwork for the night. She didn't explain why, she didn't elaborate on her instructions, but had continued on to her next class. Mystified, Rogue couldn't concentrate for the rest of the day, wondering why her new team leader would be so vague. Now was the moment of truth.

"Come in," Ororo said from the other side. 

Grabbing the door handle, Rogue pushed the door in. She stood still for a moment, shocked at the state of the room. It was more spacious than Rogue's own, and decorated much more nicely. Storm had forsaken most normal possessions and replaced them all with plants. Her room featured side-to-side windows on two walls, suggesting she had a corner room in the mansion. She needed the light in order to help her plants sustain life.

"Uh ... wow," Rogue commented, stupefied.

Ororo smiled gently. "I would like to discuss arrangements Kurt and I have been talking about. Please, take a seat." She gestured toward an empty space, a potted plant on the floor beside it. Rogue could only guess that Ororo had moved it in order to compensate for Rogue's presence.

"Been talkin' 'bout? We only had that meeting last night." Rogue gently pushed the door back in its jamb and took a seat on the vacant wooden surface.

Ororo's smile widened ever so slightly. "He doesn't have school like the rest of us and this is my senior year. I think I can put my duties as leader before my sleep schedule every now and again. Don't tell the professor; I won't make it a habit."

"Mmmhmm," Rogue hummed skeptically. "So what were ya two thinkin' over?"

"Professor Xavier didn't give my team a lot of muscle. Really, none of us junior X-Men have raw power. Remy and Kurt are our strongest fighters, but they're both on the blue team. Alison can compensate for our lack of brute force with her powers, but she lacks finesse. As does Sean. I tend to rely on subterfuge and my powers more than physical skill. What I'm saying is that none of the people on the red team have the skill set to teach you how to hold your own on a battle field. We can't have you going around and touching everyone to knock them out cold." Rogue dipped her chin down. "Kurt and I were talking, and he'd like to continue your training in that area. Even though we're separated on the blue and red teams, we can still work together."

"Okay? Ah don't mind that."

Ororo stroked one of her plants as gently as if it was a newborn child. "Yes. That does mean that you two will be working a little harder than the rest of us. You'll be with Kurt, taking lessons, but you'll also have to function as a part of my team so that we can learn team building techniques. We need to understand each other to have each other's backs. Are you alright with this?"

"Yeah, sure." Her fists closed tightly in resolution. "Ah want t' be a help t' the team."

"Good," Ororo sighed. "I'll set up a team schedule shortly. We'll make sure it's not too much for you to handle."


	18. 18 January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firework. -n. 1. a combustible or explosive device for producing a striking display of light or a loud noise, used for signaling or as part of a celebration 2. a. a pyrotechnic display b. a display of violent temper or fierce activity c. any spectacular display, especially of wit or of a technical feat by a musician or dancer

The loud bell rang over the students' heads, signalling it was time for the class to start. Rogue's English teacher was one of the teachers that had everyone sitting in their seats before the bell, expecting everyone to have their pencils out and writing the prompt without being told to. Such a thing rarely happened, but it didn't mean her demands were unwarranted. Rogue usually sat down right away, but took her time in pulling out her pen and notebook. She never really liked the prompts the teacher put up on the board, and she didn't see the point of writing a daily journal anyway.

_Write about an important person in your life and why._

The teacher made the prompt sound so easy, with such few words. Yet Rogue hardly had anyone. Her mother and Irene dropped her off at Xavier's mansion as if she was a sack of potatoes, and before that, Rogue didn't have much either. Now she had the professor, Ororo, Kurt, and Remy, but Rogue couldn't allow herself to get too close to them, both physically and emotionally. Ororo and Kurt always put an effort into making her feel welcome, but with Remy it was a hit or a miss. Either he was in the mood, or he wasn't around at all.

Rogue twiddled the pencil between her fingers, staring at the board as she tried to think of what to write about. She wouldn't be surprised if most of everyone else was writing about their boyfriend, girlfriend, or best friend. Family members were something of the past; teenagers were too good for that now. Rogue had none of that. She didn't even have a family to take for granted.

_"Getting close to other people has never been easy for me,"_ Rogue began. She took her time in writing out each letter, each word. She had to make sure that what she wrote was true, even if the teacher wouldn't care. _"but if I have to choose one important person in my life -"_

"Put down your pencils," the teacher called out to the class.

Rogue jerked her head up, the white streaks in her bangs falling into her eyes. She didn't even have time to finish her sentence, let alone answer the prompt. Using her pencil to wipe her hair aside, she gently closed her notebook with her other hand. Some other prompt she'd have enough time to properly answer. This one might nag at her, but at least she didn't have to face it head-on any longer.

"Put your journals away and get out your books." She opened her mouth to say more, but instead of hearing words, Rogue heard an impressive explosion outside of the school. The class and teacher froze, unsure of how to react to such a sound. Rogue, on the other hand, jumped straight up from her seat, took one look out the window, and darted out into the hallway. "Get back in here!" she heard the teacher screech behind her. Rogue didn't listen.

Rogue sprinted down the hallway, then came to a skidding stop in front of another classroom door. Peering through the window, she saw Scott trying to tame a frightened classroom. Rogue motioned to him, grabbing his attention. He tossed an apologetic look toward his teacher, and met Rogue in the hallway.

"What was that?" Rogue demanded.

"Rogue, go back to your classroom."

"No. Ah'm an X-Man, an' Ah getta help you," she denied crossly. 

"How?" Scott asked. He crossed his arms across his chest, looking down at her.

Rogue jutted her chin upwards to compensate for his height. "We're a team, ain't we? 'Bout time we acted like one."

"Spoken like a true hero," Hank commented from behind her. "Scott, the source of the explosion was another mutant. We don't know who, per say, but we know they're dangerous."

Jean stepped forward. "I think he needs to charge up a little in order to create another explosion like the one before, but he needs to be stopped before that can happen."

Scott sighed, glancing between his teammates, and then down at Rogue. "Alright. Hank, go find Peter. Jean, Rogue, you're with me. And Jean? See if you can get a hold of Warren." He turned on his heel and darted down the hallway, expecting the two women to keep up with him. "Do you know how he creates the explosions?"

Jean shook her head. "No. But I do know where he's at. I can't get a real telepathic fix on him, but he's heading for downtown."

"Great," Scott muttered. "How much time do we have?"

"Not a lot," Jean admitted.

"Okay, we're taking my car. Jean, can you get a hold of Ororo and tell her she's in charge of transportation for Hank and Peter?"

Jean nodded in silent reply. She continued running along with Scott and Rogue, but she stared off in concentration.

The small team eventually burst through the school's front doors and made a beeline to Scott's car. He dug the keys out of his pockets as he ran so that he could automatically open the doors before they reached the vehicle. Before he was even sitting, he jammed the key into the ignition, roughly turned the engine on, closed his door behind him, and threw the car into reverse. Tires squealed as he frantically kept control of the car, though it appeared as if it wasn't much of a problem at all. Within a minute, they were flying down the road as if they were some sort of emergency vehicle.

"Rogue, you don't have your costume on, do you?" Scott asked once he had a rhythm.

"Um ... no. It ain't all that inconspicuous, even in winter."

"Alright. I want you to stay to the side, out of sight, unless we absolutely need you. You're still untrained, and we can't risk anyone recognizing you with your civilian clothes on and making a connection to Xavier. Mutants aren't exactly held in high light right now."

Rogue wasn't too happy with his decision, but she begrudgingly agreed.

Scott pulled to an abrupt halt once they reached the city, guided by Jean's telepathy. He turned around in his seat and Jean clambered on, if only to get one last word in with Rogue. "Jean'll call you if we need help."

"Alright!" Rogue barked, staring after him as he, too, left. He still managed to find a way to bench her, even after she thought she'd be needed no matter what.


	19. 19 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Eating something you don't want to."

"Hey Ally, have you see Hank?" 

"No ... why?" she asked in response.

"Ah need his help on mah Biology homework. He ain't in his room like he usually is."

"He might be in the rec room with Bobby," Ally suggested with a shrug. She didn't give Rogue a chance to speak further and continued walking down the hallway toward her room.

Rogue sighed, but decided to take Ally's word and trudged down to the room she hardly knew at all. She peeked inside and knew instantly that Ally had been wrong. "Uh, hi guys. Any of ya know where Hank is?"

Bobby looked up from the television screen and gave Rogue a shake of his head. Remy and Scott paused their pool game. 

"What do you need him for?" Scott asked.

"Biology homework," Rogue said. "He's usually the one t' give me a hand." Her eyes wandered from Scott to Remy, absently wondering if he would be able to help her as well as Hank. She doubted it, seeing as Remy wasn't in school, but she hadn't really hung out with Remy in a long time.

"Good luck, chere," Remy said unhelpfully. He turned back to the table, calculating his next move.

A little frustrated, Rogue turned back around and wandered slowly through the hallways. She couldn't figure out how such a big guy like Hank could disappear so thoroughly. Even those that knew him well didn't know where he could be.

Then, on her way past the kitchen, she heard noises that were certainly out of place for the time of night. Everyone had already had dinner, so why was someone rooting through pots and pans and other noisy items? 

Rogue poked her head through the doorway, and then smiled when she saw exactly whom she had been looking for. "Hey! What ... are ya doin'?" She slowly walked up to Hank's side, peering at the object of his interest.

"Cooking," he replied cheerfully. "Or, more specifically, baking."

"Ah di'n't know you baked."

"I don't," Hank agreed. "Consider this an experiment."

"Cookies ... an experiment?"

"I thought I'd add a few extra ingredients for longer lasting freshness. Usually cookies get soggy when put away or hard and stale when left out. Either way you treat these cookies, they should taste just as good as if they came right out of the oven not even an hour ago."

Rogue swallowed. "And ... what _are_ these ingredients?"

Hank leveled a serious stare at her. "If I told you, then I'd have to kill you."

She jumped back. "What?"

He smiled and chuckled. "No, it's my little secret for right now. Want one?"

Rogue held up her hand, rejecting his offer too quickly to think about his feelings. "Nah, Ah'm full. But thank -"

Hank cut her off, shoving a cookie in her face. "It tastes like the real thing, but it'll last longer."

"Yeah, but is it healthy?" Rogue shot back.

"Of course not! It's a cookie!"

"No, Ah'm good."

"I can't take no for an answer." 

The look in his blue eyes was innocent enough, Rogue decided. A little afraid, she took the cookie from his oversized hand, and took a small bite out of the edge. Chewing it and swallowing it, she met his eyes. 

"Well?"

"Unless you bake a mean cookie, this the best cookie I've ever had."

She was rewarded with a gleeful grin.


	20. 20 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag1. -n. 1. a piece or strip of strong paper, plastic, metal, leather, etc., for attaching by one end to something as a mark or label 2. any small hanging or loosely attached part or piece; tatter 3. a loop of material sewn on a garment so that it can be hung up 4. a metal or plastic tip at the end of a shoelace, cord, or the like 5. a license plate for a motor vehicle 6. a small piece of tinsel or the like tied to the shank of a hook at the body of an artificial fly 7. the tail end or concluding part, as of a proceeding 8. the last words of a speech, scene, act, etc., as in a play; a curtain line 9. an addition to a speech or writing, as the moral of a fable 10. an quotation added for special effect 11. a descriptive word or phrase applied to a person, group, organization, etc., as a label or means of identification; epithet 12. a trite phrase or saying; cliche 13. a person's name, nickname, initials, monogram, or symbol 14. a traffic ticket 15. a curlicue in writing 16. a lock of hair 16. a matted lock of wool on a sheep 17. the white tip of the tail of a fox 18. the rabble -v. 19. to furnish with a tag or tags; attach a tag to 20. to append as a tag, addition, or afterthought to something else 21. to attach or give an epithet to; label 22. to accuse of a violation, especially of a traffic law; give a traffic ticket to 23. to hold answerable or accountable for something; attach blame to 24. to follow closely; go along or about as a follower 25. to write graffiti  
> Tag2. -n. 1. a children's game in which one player chases the others in an effort to touch one of them, who then takes the role of the pursuer 2. an act or instance of tagging a base runner -v. 3. to touch a base runner in or as if in the game of tag 4. a. to touch with the ball held in the hand or glove b. to hit a pitched ball solidly c. to make a number of hits or runs as specified in batting against a pitcher 5. to strike an opponent with a powerful blow 

Rogue gathered her book, pencil, and binder in her arms while getting to her feet. "Thanks, Hank. Ah dunno what Ah'd do without ya."

"I'm sure you'd find a way to pass the class," he said kindly. "You're far too smart a young woman to fail."

Quickly, so as to hide the heat flushing to her cheeks, Rogue replied, "Ah think you might overestimate me."

"Au contraire, chere," a new voice butted in. Both Hank and Rogue quickly turned their heads to find Remy standing in the doorway. "You smarter, prettier, an' better comp'ny den you t'ink." Before Rogue get get a reply in, he completely switched gears. "We pullin' t'gether teams for baseball. You wanna play, meet in da Danger Room in ten." He then turned away and walked down the hallway, possibly grabbing more people to play.

Rogue turned to Hank and blinked. "Ah dunno -"

"Nonsense!" He held out a large hand. "Let me help you carry your things and we'll go down and play. I'm sure we can find a glove for you to play with."

"But Ah -"

"I don't want to hear it. I've made the decision on your behalf, and no is not the answer. Baseball is our favorite pastime."

"Ah can't touch no one!" Rogue shouted, preventing any interruptions.

"Sure you can. You have gloves, do you not? I'm not saying it's entirely practical, but they'll work for our purposes. You don't have to worry. We're all acutely aware of the situation." Without further ado, Hank gently grabbed Rogue's school items from her arms and began to lead the way down the hallway. He had managed to grab his mitt during their short conversation, and held that under his arm.

On their way down the hallway, they passed Betsy, also dressed for the game. Hank stopped her in the hallway. "Would you happen to have another glove for our newest friend?" he asked. Rogue shrunk against the wall, avoiding Betsy's eyes.

Betsy frowned. "No, I don't. You might ask Kurt. He's far too invested into these games, if you ask me."

"Unfortunately, our resident German appears to have already vacated his room and gone down to the match. We'll find something that works. Thank-you."

"Good luck," she called, resuming her walk through the hallways.

"Ah guess Ah just can't play."

"No. Contrarily, we have plenty of gloves from you to choose from. Only one team needs their field equipment at a time. You can trade gloves with someone from the opposite team. I'm sure no one would mind. In the future, someone will have to bring you to a sports store to find you your very own glove. In the summer, we usually pick a night every week to versus each other in one sport or another. Basketball is often another top pick." He turned down Rogue's hallway and opened her door. With careful moments, he put down the stack of her school items on her desk and turned back around to face her. "Anything else you might grab for a game? Perhaps a ponytail holder? Who knows what kind of weather will be programmed into the Danger Room."

"Ah thought the Danger Room was used for training only," Rogue commented. Taking Hank's advice, she fished out an elastic band from a desk drawer, and a brush from beside it. Pulling her hair up, she brushed it into shape.

Hank waved his hand in dismissal of the idea. "In theory, yes. But we get the whole school in on it, we sometimes use it for recreation as well. Kurt sometimes finds a partner to play cat-and-mouse.

"Ready?"

Pulling her hair one last time through the band, Rogue dropped her hands to her side. "Ah guess. What if Ah don't like these games?"

"Then I suppose you don't have to participate. Don't worry, though. You'll get the hang of it quickly enough, and you'll enjoy yourself. Come on. Remy didn't give us a lot of time to get down there."

When Hank and Rogue walked into the Danger Room, Rogue was surprised to find most of the team already there. Alison and Warren were the only two missing, but Warren eventually entered soon after.

"Ally decided not to show up?" Jean asked.

"I think she went out to the club with her friends tonight," Kurt provided. "I guess we're not good enough for her."

"No, we're just too good for her," Bobby scoffed. "I mean, look at us. We're quite the happy bunch."

Ororo smiled in reply to Bobby's uplifting comment. "Let's see how long that lasts. How are we breaking up into teams?" Her and Scott exchanged glances, as if they were capable of mentally sorting the mutants.

"This side of the room is on the field, and those closest to home plate is up first. Any objections?" he asked.

A devilish grin spread across Remy's face. "None. Le's settle dis once an' for all, non?"

"I don't see how this time will be any different," Scott shrugged.

Remy gestured toward Rogue and Hank. "Dis time, we got dese two an' you got Iceboy."

"Hey!" Bobby shouted.

Jean pulled at her boyfriend's shoulder, guiding him out onto the field. "Let's see how it plays out first, boys. Maybe Bobby will actually catch the ball without use of his powers this time."

Bobby threw his hands up in the air. "What is this? You're on my team!"

"Ja, that's what you think. Don't worry, I got your back," Kurt said.

"Thanks - wait! You're not on my team." Bobby scowled and walked out to his position at third.

Kurt grinned and took the bat in his hands, settling into a batting position. "Silly me. I must have forgotten."

"You better not forget on the field," Betsy warned.

"I wouldn't mind," Ororo commented from first. "Jean, how about we show these boys how it's done?"

Jean nodded and concentrated on the home plate. Piotr was settling in as catcher. "Right. Ready, Peter?"

"Da."

"Let's play ball!"


	21. 21 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horizon. -n. 1. the line or a circle that forms the apparent boundary between earth and sky 2. a. the small circle of the celestial sphere whose plane is tangent to the earth at the position of a given observer, or the plane of such a circle b. also called the rational horizon. the great circle of the celestial sphere whose plane passes through the center of the earth and is parallel to the sensible horizon of a give position, or the plane of such a circle 3. the limit or range of perception, knowledge, or the like 4. usually, horizons. the scope of a person's interest, education, understand, etc. 5. a thin, distinctive stratum used for stratigraphic correlation 6. any of the series of distinctive layers found in a vertical cross section of a well-developed soil

"It's _freezin'_ out here," Rogue hissed under her breath. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to create friction.

"Shh!" Banshee hushed quickly. "Your uniform should take care o' the cold."

"Well, it _doesn't,"_ Rogue argued. "An' Ah wasn't loud t' begin with."

"We shunnae be talkin' at all," Banshee explained. He held out a hand to grab Rogue by the shoulder, stopping their progress. "Jus' up ahead is where the kill switch should be. If they _hear_ us, we're done for."

Rogue squinted to look ahead at what Banshee was talking about, but couldn't see anything new. "Here Ah thought, you were the loud one."

Banshee started forward again, masking his footsteps' crunches in the snow. "Don't mean I can't be quiet, lass. C'mon, follow."

Advancing forward as cautiously as she could, try as she might, she wasn't able to achieve the same quiet step her teammate was. While she knew it shouldn't bother her, she found herself a little frustrated she could be the reason their mission failed.

Banshee stopped again, holding out an arm despite the distance between him and Rogue. "Closer, lass."

Slowly, Rogue did as he told her. "What now?" she whispered.

"Sc - I mean, Cyclops's gotta know that we're gettin' close to accomplishin' the mission. He's gonna have his guard up."

"So?"

"Do you hear Storm or Dazzler?"

Rogue paused and listened. "No. Ah hear the branches, but nothin' else."

"Exactly. Either they're waiting t' attack Cyclops at the last moment, or he's already gotten t' them. We gotta be careful."

Rogue huffed. "So what we jus' standin' 'round talkin' for, Sugah?"

"The kill switch should be jus' on the other side o' that trail. I'm gonna double back and try drawin' his attention. You hear me sonic scream, you run forward an' win this match for all'a us."

Instead of saying anything, Rogue gave Banshee a firm nod. While she heard his footsteps, they were faint, and quickly disappeared until all she heard again was her breath and the slight wind through the skeleton trees. She waited patiently a few minutes, but when she heard nothing more, she began to get antsy again. The cold was seeping through her bones even through her supposedly "isolated" costume, and she had nothing to do. Even so, she waited for his scream. 

"Ah don't like this," Rogue eventually muttered. She shifted in the snow, looking all around her. She didn't see any movement, she hadn't heard anyone, and she was fairly certain that something had happened to Banshee's plan. She decided it was up to her, and only her, to finish the simulation.

Stretching out her limbs, in case she'd need to move more quickly and athletically than she was accustomed to, Rogue measured out the distance she'd need to sprint in order to pull the kill switch Banshee had been talking about. With a deep breath, Rogue burst into motion.

And was immediately rejected.

Instead of darting forward across the trail, a beam of light battered her to the ground. The sudden change of momentum was enough to give her whiplash, but not enough for her to lose her spunk.

"What the hell was that?" Rogue shouted angrily. She gingerly picked herself off the ground and brushed snow off of her costume. As she did so, the scenery around the team gradually disappeared into the familiar landscape of the Danger Room.

"A lesson," Scott replied.

No longer feeling the need to brush herself off, Rogue stormed up in front of him. He was taller than her, but she was furious. "A lesson!? You realize this is a trainin' exercise for the team? Why -?"

"Rogue, stop." Something in Scott's steely voice caused Rogue to listen to him and clamp her jaws shut. "You can't win everything. You should rely on your teammates, but that won't always prevent you from getting hurt." He turned around to include the rest of her team. "You need to learn strategy and to utilize it." His gaze stopped on Storm, though no one could really see his eyes through his visor. "Go clean up and get ready for dinner."

When Scott turned his back, Sean walked up to Rogue's side. "For the record, lass, this lesson was rigged t' begin with."

"What happened to you, Storm, and Dazzler?" Rogue asked as if he hadn't said a thing.

"Took us out, same as you."

"No sound?"

"Lad's a master o' strategy."


	22. 22 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Picking Fruits"

"We need strawberries," Jean told Rogue, and pointed in the direction of the berries.

"Alright," Rogue walked down the aisle Jean had motioned toward and stared at the selection. She hadn't ever gone grocery shopping before; she didn't understand why she and Jean were doing it together when Jean was fully capable of shopping alone, just as every other time.

Picking up a carton of strawberries, Rogue flipped it over and looked through the clear plastic. What made these berries any better or worse than their neighboring berries? Still strawberries, but a different brand. Rogue picked those up, too, getting a good look at them. They didn't appear any different.

Jean came up behind Rogue and pointed to a carton. "That one," she said.

Rogue turned around to look at her. "Why those ones?"

"They look better," she said with a shrug.

Letting out a sigh, Rogue picked up the carton of strawberries and set them gently in the cart. "Ah don't understand why y'all made me come with you. Ah obviously don't know what Ah'm lookin' for' t' go shoppin'. Ah'm just slowin' you down."

Jean waved Rogue's concern off. "Don't worry about it. Besides, we're going to Dick's and gettin' you a baseball glove on our way home."

"Yeah, 'cept Ah proved Ah was no good at the game. Ah lost it for my team."

"Did you see any of your teammates angry at you?" Jean questioned.

"Well, no...."

"You'll get better at it, Rogue. It's still only winter. We have all spring to get your skill levels up. You'll be fine."

Rogue shuffled her feet, looking down at her toes. "Ah guess. But Ah got trainin' an' Ah have t' learn sports? Ah also got school an' -"

Jean placed a friendly hand on Rogue's shoulder. "We'll get you through it, alright? Xavier's is a place to improve. It is a school after all. You'll learn to control your powers, learn to fight on our teams, learn English and science, and how to play sports and have fun." She added a friendly smile on top of her encouragement.

Despite not feeling wholly optimistic about the overall situation, Rogue gave Jean a tiny smile. It was more to get the other girl off her back than anything else. Rogue didn't need anyone smothering her.

"Alright, Ah guess. What else do we need then?"

Apparently satisfied, Jean took her hand away from Rogue's shoulder and contemplated her list of needed groceries. "I can't read this very well, but I think we're off to finding vegetables. Do you know how to pick up lettace?"

"Pick the greenest?" Rogue guessed.

Jean smiled. "Yeah, that'll work. I'll get the beans."

Rogue turned away to find the aisle with lettuce. At least she had Jean convinced she was fine. She didn't need anyone knowing her insecurities. It made things worse rather than better.


	23. 23 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home. -v. 1. a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household 2. the place in which one's domestic affections are centered 3. an institution for the homeless, sick, etc. 4. the dwelling place or retreat of an animal 5. the place or region where something is native or most common 6. any place of residence or refuge 7. a person's native place or own country 8. the destination of goal 9. a principle base of operations or activities 10. home place 11. one of three attack positions nearest the opposing goal -adj. 12. of, pertaining to, or connected with one's home or country; domestic 13. principal or main 14. played in a ball park, arena, or the like, that is or is assumed to be the center of operations of a team -adv. 16. to, toward, or at home 17. deep; to the heart 18. to the mark or point aimed at 19. a. into the position desired; perfectly or to the greatest possible extent b. in the proper, stowed position c. toward its vessel -v. (without object) 20. to go or return home 21. to proceed, especially under control of an automatic aiming mechanism, toward a specified target, as a plane, missile, or location 22. to navigate toward a point by means of coordinates other than those given by altitudes 23. to have a home where specified; reside -v. (with object) 24. to bring or send home 25. to provide with a home 26. to direct, especially under control of an automatic aiming device, toward an airport, target, etc. idioms 27. at home a. in one's own house or place of residence b. in one's own town or country c. prepared or willing to receive social visits d. in a situation familiar to one; at ease e. well-informed; proficient f. played in one's hometown or on one's own grounds 28. to bring home. to make evident to; clarify or emphasize for 29. home and dry. having safely achieved one's goal 30. home free a. assured of finishing, accomplishing, succeeding, etc. b. certain to be successfully finished, accomplished, secured, etc. 31. write home about. to comment especially on; remark on

"I don't understand our study hall," Veronica commented to Rogue. Rogue had kept a steady relationship with her since she and her boyfriend offered to help Rogue home weeks ago, but it had never extended outside of school. Now, for the first time, the girls took a trip through town to go window shopping. The wind was biting, but Rogue's jacket warded it away, and it wasn't uncomfortable when the gusts slowed.

"What's there t' understand?" Rogue asked. "Ya get a free hour t' do homework b'fore goin' home."

"Well, yeah, if you're a good child. But I can't concentrate with the group of girls always chattering in the corner. I never get anything done. And you're always working on something."

"Ah gotta figure out what Ah don't know before Ah go t' Hank for help. Can't ya move away from them?"

"No, I can't." Veronica paused in front of a small, bright shop. "Oh! That's cute!"

"Wanna go in?"

"Nah," Veronica said. "I've been in there before. It's expensive."

"Too bad," Rogue sympathized. "That would'a looked cute on you." Noting Veronica's slight frown, Rogue continued her walk.

"No kidding, right?" Veronica fell back into step beside Rogue. Looking over, her frown quickly transformed into a smile. "So ... who's Hank?"

Rogue shrugged. "Big guy we go t' school with. Real smart. Senior. He helps me out with homework almost every night."

"Sounds like a nice guy."

"Yeah, definitely. Ah dunno how he finds the time t' help me, get his homework done, train, and do all his side projects he has."

"What kind of side projects?"

Again, Rogue shrugged. "Bunch o' chemistry an' sciency stuff Ah don't understand."

Veronica moved in closer, grin still in place, and nudged Rogue with her elbow. "Ever think maybe he likes you?"

"Hank?" Rogue exclaimed. "Naw. He'd do the same for anyone."

"You sure?" Rogue nodded. "Hey, what about that other guy?"

Rogue scrunched her eyebrows together. "Who?"

"Y'know, that hot guy that picked you up when we first met," Veronica pressed.

"Oh Gawd," Rogue sighed. Before she could continue, her shoe caught on uneven pavement at the mouth of an alley. She reached out for balance, didn't catch anything, but also managed to stay on her feet.

"You okay?" Veronica asked. She turned around, ready to help Rogue out.

"Ah'm fine," Rogue assured her.

Veronica turned back around, and Rogue went to follow, but strong arms caught her around the waist and mouth. At first Rogue feared that she'd suck in the man's life force, but he was wearing thick black gloves. Once she was over concern for his safety, Rogue's thoughts flashed to her own well-being.

"Rogue!" Veronica screamed. Rogue saw her hesitate, debating whether or not to physically help. Any decision she made didn't happen to quickly, because the man pulled Rogue into the graffiti-covered alley. A few yards into the alley, it transformed into a tunnel, making a much darker and dingier atmosphere.

Hoping to free herself at nearly any expense, Rogue grabbed at his arms with her hands. She fought to sink her teeth into his fingers. He took his hand away and threw her against a rough, brick wall. After the initial shock of impact, Rogue took a moment to turn around and open her mouth to scream.

His hand went to her throat, his thumb pressing under her jawline to cut off her airways. Panic building in her chest, her hands grasped at his fingers, his arm, but his remaining hand held both of hers at the wrist and pinned them back against the brick.

She couldn't get the oxygen her body required. She couldn't use her knee to knock him away. She was weakening.

Then, as quickly as he attacked, he let go. Despite her fuzzy mind, despite her burning throat, Rogue couldn't allow herself to collapse to the ground and take his retreat as a blessing. Instead, she regained her footing and prepared to run. She hadn't enough training to deal with him, to be the superhero.

"Rogue." The voice belonged to Remy.

Rogue turned around to face him, her mouth agape. Before, she couldn't place him. He had moved too quick, and not to mention had worn a ski mask. Now the mask was in his hand, his hair long mussed up in a crazy fashion.

"What the hell!" Rogue screeched. Taking a couple steps forward, she sent the hardest punch she could at him. To her surprise, he took the punch, though he did brace himself.

Rubbing his face at the impact point, Remy straightened himself out. "Now dis ... dis wa'n't my idea."

"You did it!"

"Oui ..." Remy conceded. "Look, lower ya voice, chere. I take ya home, I explain."

"No," Rogue rejected firmly.

"Rogue?"

"No! Ah don't wanna be near you. Ah need my space, an' t' find my friend Ah was with." Rogue turned on her heel, stalking out of the alley.

"Please! Listen t' me!"

"Why, Remy?" Rogue asked. She didn't turn to face him, but she did stop in her tracks. "You don't talk t' me for a few days - disappear even - an' then attack me. Ambush me where Ah live."

"Chere, call it your lesson f'r da day. Take your issue up wit' head hancho. Hate me if ya need t', but I doin' my job. We X-Men, chere. Not jus' me. You ain't never safe, not even at home. Comprenez?"

Rogue slowly turned around, her green eyes burning. "Why you?"

"Because you trust me. An' 'Crawler can't do it himself." He took a tentative step forward, but didn't push his luck.

"Storm?"

"Dead giveaway wit' her fightin' style. 'Sides, we t'ought a man would make a bigger impact." He reached out to her, but she pulled away.

"No, Remy, Ah need my space. Now leave me be. Ah need t' find Veronica."


	24. 24 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dust. -n. 1. earth or other matter in fine, dry particles 2. a cloud of finely powdered earth or other matter in the air 3. any finely powdered substance, as sawdust 4. the ground; the earth's surface 5. the substance to which something, as the dead human body, is ultimately reduced by disintegration or decay; earthly remains 6. a. ashes, refuse, etc b. junk 7. a low or humble condition 8. anything worthless 9. disturbance; turmoil 10. gold dust 11. the mortal body of a human being 12. a single particle or grain 13. money; cash -v. 14. to wipe the dust from 15. to sprinkle with a powder or dust 16. to stew or sprinkle 17. to soil with dust; make dusty 18. to wipe dust from furniture, woodwork, etc 19. to become dusty 20. to apply dust or powder to a plant, one's body, etc. 

"No powers," Kurt said firmly. "This is a skills drill only, so we're working on personal technique."

"Personal? Isn't this a team exercise?" Alison asked. Her brows pulled together out of confusion, but her arms stayed crossed under her breasts. 

Kurt nodded. "Kind of. Don't hurt any of your own and working together as a team or pair won't be frowned upon. The main goal, though, isn't communication today."

Ororo picked up where Kurt left off. "We're focusing more on teamwork without a critical sense to aide our decisions, if that helps any. You want to stay alive - or in this case, on your feet - and that is the more important goal. You are versing the other team."

"Like lazer tag. That's a team game, but you play more individually than as a team. Except in this exercise, taking down a team member is akin to friendly fire. You can take out your own teammate, but that's not the point of this exercise," Kurt finished. 

Sean narrowed his eyes in thought. "If we're not communicatin', what's the point of doin' this as a team?"

"Because in confusing circumstances, you need to learn when to work individually and how to translate that into working as a team. Communication just isn't the goal today," Ororo explained.

"Maybe it's best if we start the simulation now and answer questions after the first round. You want to be the winning team. Fight against the other team, but please don't inflict lasting damage. We're all on the same side in the end. If you're off-balanced and take a fall, the opposing person can 'finish you off,' but that should be more of a mimicry. Once you're out, you're out. Sit there and wait the simulation out." Kurt looked everyone over. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Bobby said with a quick nod of his head. "'Cuz I don't get it."

"What's new, homme, hmm?" Remy smirked.

Taking in an exaggerated breath, Kurt turned around to give a thumbs-up at the control booth. "We're ready," he called.

Almost instantly, the cold metal walls of the Danger Room disappeared in a cloud of thick dust. Rogue took a couple unwilling steps backwards, blinking in surprise. Her sudden intake of air didn't help her out. Instead, she inhaled that same dust into her lungs. She immediately began coughing and her eyes began to water.

She didn't have control over her respiratory system yet when a dark form materialized in front of her. She quickly scrambled away from the attacking form, still coughing to get enough air. She couldn't hear anyone or anything else around her over her own sounds, making her position widely known. 

"I got yuir back, love," Rogue heard Banshee's voice from beside her. She startled, preparing to wheel away again, until her rational mind told her that he was on her side. If he said he had her back, then she better believe him. 

"Thanks," she wheezed. Sheer will fought the coughs back until her breathing was only ragged, but so that she wasn't giving away her and Banshee's positions so easily.

Rogue turned around just enough so that she was back-to-back with Sean, her eyes scanning the thick cloud for any movement. She couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean that no one was there. "Watch it!" Sean suddenly barked. Rogue turned around again just in time to block an attack from Iceman. He took a step back to regain his balance, but as soon as he had it, he lashed out with another punch. Once again, Rogue lifted up an arm to guide the fist elsewhere so as to preserve her torso. That was what Nightcrawler had been teaching her. Let her hands and forearms take the brunt of the attack, but don't let anyone get to her chest, throat, or face if she could help it. Use their momentum against themselves.

"I'm down!" Banshee cried a moment later. Rogue didn't hear or see what had happened to him. She turned to see where he went, but as soon as she did so, Iceman finally did get a hit in. He clipped her jaw, knocking her off-balance. She whipped out an arm to regain it. Instead of finding her center of balance again, Iceman ducked low and knocked her feet out from underneath her. She hit the ground. Hard. In one more movement, he tapped her with his toe. "Out."

As his back was turned, Dazzler came up behind him. Before he was even aware of her presence, she round house kicked him to the ground and pointed her fingers at his chest as if she was holding a fake gun. "Watch your back," she said with a wink. With that, she flounced off.

Before long, the Danger Room cleared up in an instant. Rogue looked around her to see Nightcrawler and Psylocke still on their feet, but everyone else on the ground. Gambit caught Rogue's eyes with his own - he was laying on the ground not too far off - but Rogue quickly looked away.

"Uh, not bad," Kurt said, though his tone suggested a different story. "This time, you're dead if an enemy tags you out." He looked over at Banshee. "You can't speak when you're dead." Instead of looking sheepish, Sean smiled. "Everyone up and let's try again?"

"Wait, I have a question," Bobby said. He wiped off invisible dust from his uniform as he scrambled to his feet. 

"Ja?"

"I don't see how this relates to a real fight."

"That's ... not a question," Betsy pointed out. 

"Very easy," Kurt explained, as if his statement really was a question. "Some people fight better in the dark. The dark deprives you all of sight, just as this exercise did. Plus, in this, you have to learn to control your breathing." This time his gaze fell on Rogue, though a soft smile graced his blue face. 


	25. 25 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream. -n. 1. a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during sleep 2. the sleeping state in which this occurs 3. an object seen in a dream 4. an involuntary vision occurring to a person when awake 5. a vision voluntarily indulged in while awake; daydream; reverie 6. an aspiration; goal; aim 7. a wild or vain fancy 8. something of an unreal beauty, charm, or excellence -v. 9. to have a dream 10. to indulge in daydreams or reveries 11. to think or conceive of something in a very remote way 12. to see or imagine in sleep or in a vision 13. to imagine as if in a dream; fancy; suppose 14. to pass or spend (time) in dreaming -adj. 15. most desirable; ideal

Veronica placed her hand over top Rogue's book, obstructing her view of the words and impeding her ability to continue her look. Rogue stared at her hand for a moment before tracing her eyes up Veronica's arm and to her face. "What?"

"Are you alright?" Veronica whispered. Her eyes darted to the side to make sure the teacher overlooking the class didn't have a problem with their conversation. 

"Ah'm fine," Rogue answered promptly, though just as quietly as Veronica. The conversation they were having was private, and no one else needed to hear the words between the two of them. Veronica didn't need to hear the words that threatened to burst out of Rogue's mouth.

"Really? You've been quieter than normal and you won't talk to me. You didn't even explain what happened Monday." 

Rogue tried to pull her book away from Veronica to avoid the topic, but the girl took the book and transferred it to her own desk, out of Rogue's reach. "It was a prank, Ah said," Rogue told her crossly. "Ah didn't find it that amusin'."

Veronica tried to catch Rogue's eyes, but eventually gave up. "If it was only a prank, do you think it would affect you so much? Rogue, you're not yourself."

"Ah thought Ah could trust him," Rogue explained. She could barely hear her own voice.

"What?" Veronica said, lowering her voice a little more than before. "What are you talking about?"

"Remy," Rogue sighed. "He grabbed me, an' Ah thought Ah was a goner. Ah thought, maybe, Ah could trust him. But then he disappears for a couple days, an' when he comes back he attacks me like some predator. Ah don't get it."

Veronica didn't say anything right away, letting the silence between them stretch on. "Did you talk to him about it?"

"No. Ah've been avoidin' him. Ah don't want t' talk to him."

"When you're ready, I think you should. Ignoring him isn't going to make the problem better. You two are still friends, and he's probably just as confused as you are right now."

"He does a lousy job showin' it," Rogue muttered bitterly. "He went out t' the club with Ally yesterday, all smiles."

"Rogue, that doesn't necessarily mean anything...." Veronica leaned forward a little closer. "Look, when Josh and I have a fight, it only hurts more when we don't talk about it. I usually make the situation out worse than it is until we talk about it. When we talk, we're on the same page again. I know you like this guy. Give him another chance, maybe?"

"Yeah, an' how many chances is he gonna get? I get the feelin' he's not goin' t' change."

"People can surprise you sometimes, Rogue," Veronica told her cryptically. "He went out of his way to help you plenty of times, right?" Rogue startled for a second. "Just talk to him, okay? Promise me?"

"What's gonna come outta it?" Rogue asked. She had to keep up her charade now; she couldn't show Veronica that just a couple words could change her whole outlook. People weren't something Rogue had to deal with much before coming to Xavier's school.

"Friendship." Veronica said it like it was so simple. Maybe it was, but Rogue could still play skeptical. 

Veronica handed Rogue her book back, flipping it open to the page she had it at. Without saying another word, she turned back around in her seat and stared off into space, ignoring the backpack beside her feet full of homework she could be doing. Rogue tried working on her homework again, but the words Veronica had told her had gotten a little deeper than she first thought. What if Rogue did give Remy another chance? Would things work out better than before? It wasn't like they had known each other for very long yet. Maybe there was still a lot to Remy that she had to learn, and maybe she would like that Remy even more.


	26. 26 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gift. n. 1. something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone, honor an occasion, or make a gesture of assistance; present 2. the act of giving 3. something bestowed or acquired without any particular effort by the recipient or without its being earned 4. a special ability or capacity; natural endowment; talent v. 5. to present with as a gift; bestow gifts upon; endow with 6. to present (someone) with a gift

Rogue was silent the entire way back to the mansion from school. Scott and Jean didn’t appear to notice and continued exchanging glances back and forth on the road, which was typical. It took Rogue a while to figure it out, but she would bet money, if she had it, that they were having a telepathic conversation. As she grew to understand each of the X-Men and their different powers, it wasn’t far fetched. Xavier had inserted words right into Rogue’s brain when he was explaining things around the X-Mansion when she first arrived. She bet that not only could Jean do the same with Scott, but she could probably read his thoughts as well.

Betsy, Jean, and Xavier all proved to be an interesting enigma to Rogue. Since they weren’t physical powers, she had a hard time understand all of what the three mutants could do. Before she could comprehend what a mutant was, long before her own powers manifested, Rogue, like many children, made games of speculating what mind control and telepathy really were. Could those three that Rogue considered acquaintances at the very least control Rogue’s body with their mind?

Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t what was bothering Rogue. Ever since the incident in downtown with Veronica and Remy, Veronica wouldn’t let Rogue drop the subject of Remy. Even though she was in a relationship already, she made it quite clear that Remy was a hot piece of man and that she completely shipped the two as a couple. Rogue, on the other hand, was letting Remy get under her skin. She didn’t want to give him another chance to mess with her, which meant putting as much distance between her and him as possible. He was making it a little too easy most times.

Sometimes when they passed in the mansion’s hallways, or crossed paths during training exercises, she could feel Remy’s eyes linger on her, but he didn’t make the first move. She didn’t know what his game was or what he wanted from her. She didn’t even understand why he stopped hanging out with her in the first place. In fact, when she thought about it, she couldn’t even remember the last time he had gone out of his way to talk to her. It had been at least a week, she knew. Considering that she hadn’t been a resident at the mansion for a month yet, more than a week was a long time. So why was he so important to her? Kurt, Hank, and Ororo were much closer and friendlier to her on a daily basis.

It always came down to the fact that Remy was the first to extend a hand without trying to drag her into the party. He was the one that went out of his way to make sure that she was comfortable in the winter weather. He was the one that defaulted to a back-up plan when none of Rogue’s other teammates were there to help her out. But then he was the one that attacked her when she was off team time and out with a friend. And finally, he wouldn’t stop singling her out with minute body language whenever they crossed paths. It was like he knew that she didn’t want him around, but he couldn’t completely back off.

Rogue was just able to shake him from her mind, to switch her mind over to the homework that she still had to do after the study hour, when Scott pulled onto the mansion’s campus. As he pulled into his parking spot, Rogue saw him. The man that she was coming to dread seeing around. Remy. He was waiting by the door. He was very casual, dressed in rugged jeans, a loose fitting shirt, and his tell-tale trench coat. As he waited, he shuffled a deck of cards. Why he chose a deck of cards to play with was beyond Rogue.

She almost stayed in the car even after Scott and Jean opened their doors to leave, but that would probably attract more attention than it would prevent. Swallowing a hard lump in her throat, Rogue hiked her backpack onto her shoulder and slipped out onto the pavement. Jean, by some miracle, appeared to sense Rogue’s apprehension and swerved around the car to talk to her as they walked.

“You just let me know if he’s bothering you,” she whispered. “Okay?”

Rogue nodded. “Thanks, Jean.”

“Try calling out in your head, directed at me, if he gives you problems. I can be right there.”

Rogue’s eyebrows shot up. “You could hear that?”

Jean shrugged. “Why not? When I was younger, it was everything in my power to _not_ hear everyone’s thoughts. It was a nightmare. It’s second nature to close my mind to everyone now in everyday situations. I wouldn’t invade someone’s privacy like that.” She gravitated behind Scott single-file style as they approached the door. “See you later, Rogue?”

“See ya later,” Rogue agreed. Her pace dwindled to a stop in front of Remy. “So?” she prompted.

“So?” Remy echoed. Rogue couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny or not. His voice wasn’t mocking, but confused. How could he not understand what Rogue was asking of him? If she stopped talking to someone for two weeks, she would know exactly why they would have a problem with her.

“What’s been goin’ on with you?”

“Family matter,” he replied bluntly. “Two weeks ago. Den you didn’t seem too happy ta see me, so I give you space. Dat di’n’t work out too well when Stormy put me up ta teachin’ you a lesson in da city. I repeat: Not my idea.” He stressed each word of the last sentence enough to make Rogue unintentionally flinch. “An’ now I here ta make amends. Capiche?”

The way he put it, it made Rogue seem more like the ass than him. “Oh.”

“Nah, don’ you worry none.” He slipped the cards he was shuffling earlier into his pocket. “I forgive you. Now da better question is, do you forgive Remy?”

Rogue couldn’t make eye contact. “Ah’m sorry Ah didn’t know….”

“How were ya to? Not like I said anyt’in’. Not ta no one. Dat’s kinda how I operate.” He paused, possibly waiting for Rogue to respond in one way or another. She kept her eyes dropped off to the side. “Maybe I make an exception for you next time it happen?”

“Is that supposed t’ be some sort o’ big deal or somethin’?” Rogue asked. She regretted her words instantly.

“Yah, li’l bit. When life calls, I ain’t got a lot o’ time f’r sayin’ goodbyes.”

“What exactly do ya do outside o’ da mansion?” Rogue asked. She was genuinely curious. Nearly everyone else in the mansion took Remy as a bad kind of person, with the possible exceptions of Ororo and Xavier himself. Rogue couldn’t see it. He wasn’t the best socialized person, but he seemed like a good guy overall.

“We’ll leave dat explainin’ f’r another day, non?” He forced a smile, obviously trying to make light of a situation that went rather dark. “I don’ deal drugs, no matter what Alison t’inks. Don’ have a need f’r somet’in’ like dat. Too much else t’ life.”

Rogue decided not to press him. Here she was trying to get him out of her head, and he showed up with more mysteries to solve.

“So whaddya say? Friends again, chere?” He held out his hand, but Rogue couldn’t take it. The gloves he were belonged to his costume, which didn’t have all the fingers. She wasn’t wearing anything on her hands.

“Yeah, friends,” Rogue agreed. She finally let her eyes meet his, crimson cast and all.

Appearing to understand why she didn’t take his hand, he didn’t drop it, but pulled her into a hug. Rogue lost her balance, falling into him, but awkwardly hugged him back. 


	27. 27 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sand. -n. 1. the more or less fine debris of rocks, consisting of small, loose grains, often of quarts 2. usually, sands. a tract or region composed principally of sand 3. the sand or a grain of sand in an hourglass 4. sands, moment of time or of one’s life 5. a light reddish- or brownish-yellow color 6. courage; pluck 7. sleeper -v. 8. to smooth or polish with sand, sandpaper, or some other abrasive 9. to sprinkle with or as if with sand 10. to fill up with sand, as a harbor 11. to add sand to

“Y’know, in all dis time we known each other, I don’ t’ink I’ve ever act’ly asked you on a date,” Remy stated. He was sprawled across her bed, propped up by his elbow to watch her. Rogue was sitting at her desk chair trying to work on homework. Sure, it was Friday, but that meant she could have all of Saturday and Sunday to herself without having to worry about trivial classes.

Rogue blinked. “Ah thought, an’ correct me if Ah’m rememberin’ wrong, that you said ‘if I were hittin’ on you, you’d know.’” She shrugged. “Or somethin’ along those lines.”

Remy lifted up a finger as if to say “wait.” “Not like dat, but close enough t’ da tru’t. Way I see it, situation’s changed. Dat was a make-up talk yesterday, n’est-ce pas? If you t’inkin’ dat I owe you explanations, I t’ink our relationship need t’ change from ‘we doin’ alrigh’ an’ gettin’ along’ t’ maybe somet’in’ a li’l more.”

“Ah think you’re forgettin’ that Ah can’t touch you,” Rogue reminded him. It didn’t matter how much she missed human contact.

“Non. I only forgot dat yesterday when I tried t’ shake your hand. Dat was dumb.” Rogue couldn’t disagree with him there. “So, I guess it my place now t’ ask you out. Can’t say I ever done somet’in’ so formal, so I’m not sure what da words would be.”

“How ‘bout ‘will you go out with me?’” Rogue suggested.

“Ain’t dat cliché? Dat seems cliché.”

Rogue shrugged again.

“Mmmkay. How ‘bout tomorrow, I wake you up, an’ ‘fore anyone knows you gone, I take you some place jus’ you an’ me. An’, ‘cause I t’ink dis closer in line with what I said long time ago, you know I won’t be makin’ no moves on you ‘cause if I touch you I end up in a coma. It’ll be nice an’ civil, but maybe a bit romantic.”

“How early are we talkin’, Sugah?” Rogue couldn’t help the squeak that came out in the last word.

“Nah, don’t you worry ‘bout dat. Wear your costume f’r da X-Men t’ keep warm an’ da coat I bought you. Dat’s all you gotta worry ‘bout af’er I wake you up. No need f’r a alarm clock.”

Rogue watched him skeptically to make sure that he wasn’t pulling her leg. It seemed a little out of character for him, but this felt out of the blue. “Ah hope you remember that Ah’m a southern gal, Sugah.”

“’Course. I’m a southern guy.” He had a very good point there. “I still t’ink you’ll like what I have in mind, chere.” He dropped from his elbow onto his back to put his arms up into the air as if he were painting a picture. “Imagine a beach, ya? Da sun hittin’ da waves in da distance jus’ right. No one else ‘round ‘cause it’s da middle o’ winter an’ we’d be crazy if we di’n’t have no warm costume, ‘specially wit’ dat wind comin’ right off da water. Sand’s a li’l frozen, maybe gone under da snow. Da waves maybe frozen closer t’ land. Ain’t much dat beats da sound o’ water, chere.”

Rogue was dumbstruck. “That act’ly sounds nice,” she admitted.

“I told ya. Trust me, chere. I can be a good guy f’r you.”

“Ah’m holdin’ that t’ ya,” Rogue warned him. She turned around to face her desk. “Ah’ll go, but I gotta get my homework done first.”

“D’accord.”


	28. 28 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big. –n. 1. large, as in size, height, width, or amount 2. of major concern, importance, gravity, or the like 3. outstanding for a specified quality 4. important, as in influence, standing, or wealth 5. grown up; mature 6. elder 7. doing business or conducted on a large scale; major in size or importance 8. consisting of the largest or most influential companies in an industry 9. known or used widely; popular 10. magnanimous; generous; kindly 11. boastful; pompous; pretentious; haughty 12. loud; orotund 13. made of or distinguished by voluminous fabric that is loosely or softly shaped and fitted 14. having more than the average flavor, body, and alcoholic content 15. filled; brimming 16. pregnant 17. very strong; powerful –adv. 18. boastfully; pretentiously 19. with great success; successfully

Rogue woke up to hands on her body. She flailed outwards, letting the training Kurt put into her to good use. She wasn’t successful, but she wasn’t quite awake either.

“Shh! Quiet!” a voice hissed at her. She paused, her hands trapped against her chest. A heavy weight kept them there no matter how hard she struggled. Her legs were also pinned down.

“Get off me,” Rogue said crossly. The mysterious attacker was Remy. It was still completely dark outside so she couldn’t see him. She knew he was going to wake her up, but she didn’t expect it to be in the dead of night.

Remy quickly obliged her, sliding off her bed in a smooth movement. Rogue propped herself into a sitting position, though she couldn’t really look at him. She could see vague shapes in her room, but nothing more than that.

“Di’n’t mean t’ scare ya, chere,” he said apologetically. “An’ can’t have you touchin’ me wit’ yer flailin’ about.”

“Ah wasn’t flailin’,” Rogue huffed.

He didn’t answer her, but she suspected he was laughing at her. “I could’a turned on da light. I t’ought dis would be less mean.”

Rogue hummed an indecipherable answer at him. With this experience under her belt, she thought she would prefer the lights than getting touched. As she had the curse of these powers longer, she didn’t like anyone touching her without permission. It was too dangerous, whether she was clothed or not.

“So I step outside while you get dressed?” Remy suggested. “Meet me in da hallway?”

“Sure,” Rogue said. She forced back a yawn. “Ah’ll jus’ be a few.”

“D’accord.” She couldn’t hear him move, but the sound of the door closing behind him gave him away. He didn’t even turn on her light.

Kicking the covers aside, Rogue expertly crossed the room to turn on the light switch. She squinted hard against the intruding light, but it gradually got easier to see. She had already laid out her uniform the night before to Remy’s suggestion, so slipping into the day’s clothes wasn’t so bad. Topping her look off with her coat, gloves, and a scarf, Rogue opened her door again in record time.

“I ever tell you how nice you look in dem clothes?” Remy asked. He held out his hand to her.

Rogue immediately felt her face warm up, so she ducked her head. Gingerly taking his hand, she let his fingers settle around her own. “Ah don’t think so.”

“Shame. Lotta wasted opportunity.” He started moving, his hand keeping her right by his side. Traveling hand-in-hand was a lot easier than Rogue expected it would be. They made it all the way out the front doors into soft darkness without a hitch. It was only after he kept going, stepping over the snow in what looked like metal boots, that Rogue got confused.

“You’re not drivin’?” she questioned.

“Nope. No need. Sure ya can’t see much now, but it’s gonna be worth it.” He made a great effort in catching her eyes. “I guarantee, ma chere.”

Rogue couldn’t really tell where they were going. Not only was it dark, but Rogue had no idea what the property to the Xavier Institute looked like. She hadn’t gone outside more than to load herself up or out of a car. Remy appeared to know exactly where he was going. He led her through a rather thick swatch of trees, carefully dodging thick trunks and brush alike. The snow was a lot thinner here, which made travel a little easier. By the time they made it out the other side of the woods, the sky was beginning to lighten up to dawn.

“Um, Remy?” Rogue stopped beside him a few feet away from the trees. Rogue heard him chuckle, but that wasn’t an answer. “That’s a cliff.”

“Yup.”

“Ah don’t get it.”

“There’s a better way down dis way. I t’ink we got time b’fore da sun rises. I jus’ don’ want us missin’ dat.” His hand tugged lightly at hers again, signaling he was on the move. Rogue followed him without question, even as the terrain got harder to navigate. Soon, they were scooting and sliding down rocks on a downward trajectory to get to the short beach below. The sun was just beginning to rise over the waves.

“That’s beautiful!” Rogue exclaimed.

She could now see Remy’s grin on his face. “Mmmhmm. I told ya.” He took a seat in the sand with his back to the rocky cliff and patted the ground beside him. Rogue took her seat, soaking in the beautiful sight before her. They didn’t have sun rises like this in the south.

They didn’t say much until the bottom of the sun cleared the water. “So what’d I tell ya?” Remy asked her. “Was it worth wakin’ up f’r?”

Rogue nodded. “An’ worth the walk. Ah guess you know your stuff.”


	29. 29 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boredom. –n. 1. the state of being bored; tedium; ennui

“Oh God, there’s just _nothing_ to do around here,” Ally complained. Her arms were busy trapping food to pull over to the counter to fix herself food as she did this. Rogue complacently munched on a bowl of cereal, watching her with skeptical eyes. “Did I tell you that I was kicked out of that club that basically attacked me?” Rogue looked around her to make sure that Ally was indeed talking to her. “That was the only club even worth singing at. It had a budget that I could agree with.”

“You get paid for singin’?” Rogue asked.

“Of course I get paid for singing,” Ally sneered. She dropped the last thing from the fridge onto the counter, shutting the door with a foot. “Why else would I do it? It’s fun, sure, but I don’t think it’d be worth continuing doing it without the money.”

“Ah’m not the only X-Man here without a job, am Ah?” Rogue asked. A little bout of panic reached her at the thought. She didn’t want to be the one lazy girl that let others take care of her. It wasn’t her style.

“Tsh. No.” She pulled a couple slices of bread out of the cupboard to make herself a sandwich. “You really think someone like Kurt could get a job? Here?”

“Oh, right.” The panic instantly dissipated, giving way to the noncommittal attitude she had earlier. Alison’s world and her world were completely separate.

“I did hear that he was part of a circus before coming here, though,” Ally commented. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He may as well be a blue demon.”

“Ah don’t think that’s very nice,” Rogue said. “Ah think he’s a good guy. He’s always been friendly to me since the day we met. He almost seemed excited that Ah was even talkin’ ta him insead’a runnin’ the otha’ way.”

Ally paused to give Rogue a hard stare. “He’s nice to you? He’s always playing pranks and cracking jokes around me. It’s downright irritating.”

Rogue shrugged. “Well yeah. He must just think that you’re good laughing material? Ah dunno. Ah thought he was as nice to everyone as he was t’ me.”

“Are you gossiping again?” A new, very deep voice cut into their conversation. The big guy, Piotr, stepped into the room, and was looking directly at Ally. “Gossip is not good for the person. Make happy.” Rogue blinked. She didn’t think she’d ever heard the guy talk before. His voice was very heavily accented.

“Do you have a brain the size of a pea, Peter? What else is there to do in this building? I’m going crazy with boredom,” Ally snapped back.

“Ah, make joke,” Piotr responded. “You not ruffle my feathers. Is that what you Americans say? ‘Ruffle my feathers?’ No matter. You not hurt me with words, but that may not be same with others. I warn you to watch words before you offend others.” Piotr picked an apple from the small pile of fruits and turned to Rogue, completely ignoring any other words Ally might have to say. “Your name Rogue, da?”

It took Rogue a moment to figure out that he was even talking to her. She had forgotten that she didn’t communicate with everyone in the building. “Uh, yeah. Peter, right?”

“Da. Don’t let Alison’s words cloud your judgment. You seem good person.” With that, he lumbered out of the room, the sharp snap of the apple resounding in the air as he bit it.

“Ugh,” Ally scoffed. “I don’t think he understands English enough to even know what an insult is.”

“Nah, Ah think he got it, Sugah.” Rogue had to keep a chuckle to herself at Ally’s expression. It was a cross between disgust and bewilderment. In the thirty seconds the Russian was in the room, Rogue immediately liked him. He didn’t seem dull to her at all.


	30. 30 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mist. –n. 1. a cloudlike aggregation of minute globules of water suspended in the atmosphere at or near the earth’s surface, reducing visibility to a lesser degree than fog 2. a cloud of particles resembling this 3. something that dis, obscures, or blurs 4. a haze before the eyes that dims the vision 5. a suspension of liquid in a gas 6. a drink of liquor served over cracked ice 7. a fine spray produced by a vaporizer to add moisture to the air for breathing –v. 8. to become misty 9. to rain in very fine drops; drizzle 10. to spray with a finely diffused jet of water, as a means of replacing lost moisture

“Oh mah God, what is this?” Rogue asked in a rush. As soon as the Danger Room’s imagery materialized around the two teams, she knew that they were in for an intense workout. They stood at an angle to what looked like a massive obstacle course. A rocky wall stood at the forefront of the course, leading to what looked like a rough mockery of monkey bars, to a pristine grass field. The field wasn’t particularly long and could probably be crossed in a couple seconds, assuming Rogue and the others would have enough stamina after climbing the sheer rock wall. The field dumped into an abyss with what looked like a couple shaky tree trunks providing the only way across. That was the end of the course, but the vertical climb was enough to scare Rogue.  
  
“This is our training exercise for the day,” Ororo informed her. Rogue’s question was rhetorical, but her answer wasn’t unappreciated.   
  
“What is wrong, Rogue?” Kurt taunted. “I think it looks easy.”  
  
“Says the monkey,” Ally shot back.   
  
“I am not a monkey!”  
  
“She’s jus’ admittin’ defeat already,” Remy assured his team leader.   
  
Ororo pursed her lips for a moment before describing the situation. “Each member of each team will be going through this course four times: two from the wall to the ditch, and two from the ditch to the wall. We will treat this is a tag team so that only one member of each team is running through the obstacles at the same time. With each successful completion, the visibility will be reduced with a light mist to heavy fog. One team will win. No powers. Anyone to use their powers has bathroom cleaning duty for the month.” She turned to her three teammates in particular. “Are you ready?”  
  
“As I’ll ever be, lass,” Sean assured her. “Is this a bet with Kurt?”  
  
She smiled. “No, of course not.”  
  
“How do you expect us to climb that wall?” Ally asked. She gestured toward it with sharp movements. “Kurt has an unfair advantage, being able to stick to walls and all.”  
  
“I said that no powers may be used,” Ororo told her simply. She turned to lead the teams to the starting position.  
  
“I don’t think Kurt can just turn off his sticky,” Ally muttered.  
  
“Too bad you can’ jus’ turn off yer mouth,” Remy shot back.   
  
Bobby giggled behind them. “Ouch.”  
  
“Ah’ve never been able t’ do a pull-up before,” Rogue murmured more to herself than anyone. “Ah hope Ah don’t let y’all down.”  
  
Betsy pulled up next to her as they walked. “Try your best. You’ll be able to find footholds in the crevices between rocks to help pull yourself up. It won’t just be upper body strength. This course looks like it’s designed to use the entire body: arms, legs, and core. It’s short, but well thought out.”  
  
Rogue offered her a weak smile. “Thanks.”  
  
“You’ll be fine.”  
  
“No talking to the enemy!” Bobby called out to her.  
  
Rogue wasn’t the first to go, but she was the second. Ororo sent her and Sean to the opposite side of the course, where they could be tagged to start their turn. Bobby and Betsy were there for Kurt’s team. Rogue watched in mounting anticipating as Ororo made her way through the course, even though she couldn’t see the weather witch’s ascent up the wall. As expected, she wasn’t the first to make it over the stone, but she followed quickly after the scurrying blue mutant. Her movements were erratic rather than a dead spring across the field, but her balance rivaled even Kurt’s across the bridge. She slapped Rogue’s hand without even a hitch in her breath.  
  
Rogue was much slower to navigate the tree bridge, but to her defense, so was Bobby. She actually managed to reach the end of the tree at the same time as Bobby, completely negating the lead Kurt had built up. With two steps in the field, however, she gave up the possible photo finish by falling straight down. In the blink of an eye, Rogue went from seeing the stone wall she had to climb to seeing absolute darkness. Apparently the field was riddled with trap holes covered in a substance that eerily matched the grass around them.   
  
“Are you kiddin’ me?” Rogue shouted at nothing in particular once she gathered her wits about her. Did she have to climb out?  
  
Rogue fumbled around the hole with her hands, eventually grabbing hold of what she dearly hoped was a tree root poking out of the hole. Putting her entire weight on it, she braced her back against the other side of the hole to climb out. Struggling, she managed to get her elbows over the edge, which she used to worm herself completely up and out. Bobby was nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Are you alright?” Ororo called out to her.   
  
“Peachy,” Rogue spat. She regained her footing and restarted her sprint, broken as Ororo’s path as she dodged what she could see as holes now.   
  
Betsy was right; the stone wall had a lot of gaps and grips to hold on to so that Rogue could climb the wall. She felt like her grip was shaking at best, and after falling from a couple feet up with her gloves slipping against her finger, she took them off to try again. The best she could do was jam her toes into the gaps as much as possible to support her weight. By the time she reached the top, her arms were screaming at her.  
  
Once she reached the top of the wall, however, she was faced with a conundrum. How would she cross the monkey bar-like maze of wood? Betsy dropped down from the wall and used the wood like a kid would monkey bars, quickly reaching the halfway point to tag the last team member into motion. Rogue decided to do the same, despite her arms already protesting their use. She was more than happy to pull herself back up to the second wall and make the ten foot drop to tag Alison into motion.  
  
The two girls clapped hands, and Ally was off. Rogue did everything within her will to keep from plopping on the ground in a puff of heavy breathing. She pulled her gloves from where she stuffed them after taking them off to throw them on the ground. They wouldn’t be doing her a lot of good in this course.  
  
“Where’d you go?” Bobby asked her.  
  
“A hole,” Rogue panted. “Ah didn’t see it.” Bobby snorted. “Shut up,” Rogue grumbled.


	31. 31 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second Thoughts. –n. 1. reservation about a previous action, position, decision, judgment, or the like

Rogue threw her head down against the table, letting her backpack collide with the ground in a graceless attempt to free herself from its burden. Veronica was noticeably less dramatic, sliding into her seat without much of a sound. "Bad day?" she asked.

"Ah'm so sore!" Rogue mumbled into the table. "Ah can't even lift mah arms."

"What did you do?" Veronica asked. She couldn't hide the giggle that entered her voice.

"Ah worked out with some friends. Ah advise against it. Ah hurt so bad."

"You'll be fine in a couple days," Veronica consoled.

"Ah don't know 'bout that. Ah was fine earlier, maybe a li'l uncomfortable. But now? Ohh, it's hit me like a truck now. Ah feel ev'ry muscle in mah body."

"I wish I had friends that would work out with me," Veronica said as if Rogue hadn't described her ailments. Her voice sounded a little far off, like it truly was a fantasy for her.

Rogue managed to lift her chin up from the desk so that her voice wasn't as muffled anymore. "Why can't Trevor?" Veronica didn't talk much about her boyfriend, but Rogue thought that they spent enough time together to make it worthwhile to jointly exercise. He didn't look like he would have rejected a workout, either. He looked fit.

Veronica scoffed. "I'd be lucky to get him out of the house. I dread the day when a new Mass Effect game comes out or something. How many times does a guy have to beat a game before he hangs it up?"

"Ah wouldn't know. Ah haven't lived with a guy until this year. Even now Ah don't pay attention ta what they do." She managed to shift into an upright position, heavily leaning on the back of the chair.

"Speaking of boy problems, how's it going your guys? Remy specifically."

Rogue could feel the heat flush up to her cheeks. "He finally talked ta me again. We went on a date on Saturday."

"Really?" Veronica prompted. She was all ears now, curiosity level set to the nth degree.

"Yeah. We went ta the beach an' watched the sun rise on the water. It was really peaceful an' relaxin'. It's nice bein' on friendly terms with him again."

Veronica was practically bouncing in her chair. "So are you two a thing now? Like Facebook official?"

"Ah don't have a Facebook," Rogue said flatly. "Ah dunno. Ah don't know if Ah'd call him mah boyfriend yet."

"What do you have to do to have you call someone your boyfriend?" Veronica asked. "Trevor and I don't even go on dates anymore. I kind of just hang around his house while he plays video games. Or he just drops me off at home on other days."

Rogue shrugged, but instantly regretted the movement. "Ah haven't really thought about it. Ah jus' don't know if Ah'm ready ta be close ta anyone. Ah was never really good with othah people. An' if Ah screw somethin' up, Ah kinda live in the same area as him, y'know?"

"Maybe I can convince Trevor to go on a double date." Veronica was dreaming again, her voice far-off. She didn't really like hearing the negative. "Would you be okay with that?"

Rogue knew that she wouldn't be terribly comfortable, but she couldn't outright tell Veronica that. "Ah dunno …" she started, but never finished.

"Yeah, I'll ask Trevor. Make it for Friday night or something." She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a textbook and binder. Grabbing a pencil from a separate area, she flipped open the textbook to a certain page. Her mind was set and it was on to another subject.


	32. 1 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lack of Motivation.

Rogue really, really didn’t feel like continuing on with the day. School was already bad enough, and the training exercises the red team went through weren’t much better. Rogue was still sore from the workout on Monday and Storm wasn’t giving her a break. As it stood, it was almost dinner time and Rogue hadn’t started her massive amount of homework. Why was it that high school teachers sensed when other teachers were dropping projects, and worked as a team to best overwhelm students? Rogue wasn’t sure she was going to find the time to do anything.

Ignoring her backpack and responsibilities, Rogue blundered through the hallways. Slow and steady, barely paying attention, so as to best waste her time. Maybe after she was full of food and the kitchen was clean, she would go straight to bed. She did have one more study hour before most of the projects were due, and in a pinch she might be able to ask Hank for his academic help. He may be a senior in that high school, but he was intellectually smarter than that. All homework was child’s play to him, and he was taking all the most advanced classes the school had to offer.

Rogue was all in her mind, meandering through the hallways off pure routine, and she wasn’t the only one. Alison managed to pop out of her room, with as much attention and care that Rogue was putting into her walk, at the precise moment Rogue walked by. They carelessly collided, and Alison’s first reaction was to catch her unfortunate victim. Both ladies were without gloves, and it didn’t take Alison long to realize her mistake.

Rogue’s powers acted immediately, whether or not Rogue wanted them to. While she stumbled, she graciously accepted Alison’s hand grabbing hers until her foggy mind processed what was happening. Alison’s consciousness, her current thoughts first and foremost, and her powers flooded into Rogue’s mind and body. Alison let out a startled cry, pushing Rogue’s hand away more than simply letting go. It was her last conscious thought before she fell in a heap on the ground.

“Ally!” Rogue shouted, belatedly. She fell to her knees beside her unconscious form, but was unsure of how to proceed.

Alison’s memories now floating through Rogue’s head weren’t much of a nuisance, unlike when Rogue had accidentally taken in the persona of people before. Rogue was able to focus more on whether or not Alison was okay, as well as her mounting panic, than Alison’s last trip to a club or the school day she had experienced today. Seeing that Alison was still breathing was enough to send Rogue back on her feet in a desperate attempt to find someone to help her.

Who to call? “Storm! Ororo! Help!”

“Rogue?” Betsy asked. She had her door cracked open enough to step through. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, um … no. Ah accidentally touched Ally an’ dropped her. Ah don’t know if she’s okay!”

“Hey, calm down,” Betsy said soothingly. She reached out to lightly grab Rogue’s shoulders, which were amply covered with a long sleeve shirt. “I’m calling the Professor. Take a deep breath, let’s go back to Ally, and we’ll help her out. Okay?”

Rogue nodded, taking great effort in sucking in the deep breath. She allowed Betsy to take the lead, following her with more alertness than she possessed all day. Xavier, Scott, and Jean weren’t very far behind.

“What happened here?” Scott asked. He pushed the Professor down the hallway, pulling him to a stop within reach of Alison’s body.

“Ah – Ah wasn’t payin’ attention ta where Ah was goin’, an’ she came outta her room so fast …” Rogue explained feebly.

“She will be alright,” Xavier told the four students. His two fingers were at his temple, which appeared to be a more subconscious maneuver than anything. He soon relaxed both hands in a folded position on his lap. “Scott, if you would take her back to her room. Jean, would you be there for her when she awakens?”

“What if she doesn’t?” Rogue asked. She felt the uncontained panic bubble up again. “Ah … Ah heard the first guy Ah touched after mah powers manifested is still in a coma in the hospital. It’s been … it’s been years, Professah.”

“Rogue, I need you to concentrate.”

Rogue blinked. Was Xavier not concerned about Alison’s health?

“Rogue, please listen to my words. You now have, along with Alison’s memories, her mutant powers as well.” This was the first time Rogue touched a mutant. She didn’t feel any different. Alison did something with sound to convert it to light energy. Rogue would have guessed Alison felt like a living battery, but there was nothing.

“You’re glowing, Rogue,” Betsy added. “The more panicked you get, the brighter the flashes of light.”

“Alison has to be aware of her energy at all times. I need you to concentrate and get a hold of yourself,” Xavier instructed gently.

Now that the two telepaths mentioned it, Rogue was aware of the white flashes she was causing. Just because she was aware of it, however, didn’t mean that she could control it. Control issues were her main issues, seeing as an involuntary touch would cause a fiasco exactly like the one at hand.

“Ah’m not sure how, Professor.”

“I can’t tell you exactly how, Rogue. Learning how to control others’ powers when you take them is a skill just as important as learning how to fight on an X-Men team,” he explained to her. “What may work for one’s mutant powers may not work for another.”

“Ah thought Ah would feel somethin’, if Ah had her power,” Rogue said. Her mind felt a little sluggish, like she wasn’t comprehending everything very quickly. “But Ah feel no different than before. Ah jus’ feel … tired.”

“Elisabeth, would you help Rogue back to her room?” Xavier asked.

“Uh, yes, Professor. I can do that.”

“Thank-you, child. I will be going in to check on Alison. I sense she’s stirring.”

“Already?” Rogue asked. She couldn’t muster excitement. The adrenaline rush was already leaving her energy levels behind.

“Already,” Xavier echoed. His smile was small as he wheeled himself into Alison’s room.

“Rogue?” Betsy asked, bringing Rogue’s attention back to her. She gestured down the hallway. “Shall we?”

“Actually, Betsy, Ah’m fine. You can go eat dinner. Ah’ll be down in a few. Maybe Ah can figure this power out a li’l bit.”

“Good luck,” Betsy said. She waved goodbye and turned down the hall. Rogue, in much the same state of mind as before, meandered back to her room. She tried concentrating on the light energies, but they were fading. Was it because she didn’t have control of Dazzler’s powers anymore or was it because there wasn’t any sound in the hallways?


	33. 2 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic. –n. 1. a sudden overwhelming fear, with or without cause, that produces hysterical or irrational behavior, and that often spreads quickly through a group of persons or animals 2. an instance, outbreak, or period of such fear –adj. 3. of the nature of, caused by, or indicating panic 6. suddenly destroying the self-control and impelling to some frantic action –v. 7. to affect with panic; terrify and cause to flee or lose self-control 8. to be stricken with panic; become frantic with fear

Rogue was waiting for something to go wrong after the incident with Alison the earlier night. She hadn’t left her room for dinner like she said she would, but she also didn’t get the chance to play with Alison’s powers, either. She wasn’t sure if it was because her powers wore off that fast or if it was because Rogue spent the rest of the night in relative silence.

Unfortunately, nothing really went right the rest of the night, either. Thankfully, most of Rogue’s classes that doled out the projects left most of the time for working on them. For the most part, the school day was relatively peaceful.

One incident threatened to tear that peace apart and throw it away like garbage.

Rogue wasn’t thinking when it happened.

She was in a pretty good mood, despite the ominous voice she was trying to suppress in the back of her head. It was a nice change after the dismal mood she was in the day before. For some reason, that good mood translated to a more outgoing personality than she’d ever tried before.

“Oh, hey, Anne, how’s it goin’?” Rogue asked. Anne, a short black-haired girl, was a freshman stopped at her locker between classes. She was crouched low to pull the heavy books from the bottom of her locker to transfer them to her backpack.

She looked up from where she squatted, her hair falling into her face to make her expression unreadable.

Rogue continued: “Am I gonna see you at the club tomorrow night?”

Anne let Rogue’s question hang in the air for a moment. “Who are you?”

Rogue was confused for a second until she realized what was happening. She took a full step backwards, crashing into a passing student, in alarm. The force of their impact caused Rogue to spin around, but the passing student only stumbled. He threw her a disgruntled look before continuing on. No skin to skin contact, at least.

Rogue turned her attention back to Anne. “Ah – Ah’m so sorry!” Rogue said quickly. What was she supposed to say? She named Anne, she couldn’t say it was a mistake. “Ah …” Rogue turned quickly, disappearing behind a couple passing guys to get away. She got halfway down the hallway before she realized she was walking in the wrong direction.

Pulling off to the side of the hallway, Rogue leaned against the brick wall to take a breath.

Those were Alison’s memories. Alison was friends with Anne. Alison could expect to see Anne almost every weekend she sang, leading a growing group of people that enjoyed her music. Ally was good at singing and word was quickly spreading. There was just something so special about Alison’s shows.

Rogue didn’t have long to collect her thoughts, and whatever thoughts she did collect may not have even been hers. She needed to get to her next class. She only had a few seconds left until the bell rang. When Rogue passed Anne’s locker again, she was gone.

“Hey, you okay?”

That was Veronica’s voice. Veronica was Rogue’s friend, right? Rogue turned around to greet her, but found herself surprisingly short of breath.

“What happened?” Veronica questioned.

“Ah jus’ made a big fool of mahself,” Rogue replied. She followed Veronica into the classroom, settling in beside her.

“Yeah? How so?”

“Ah … Ah dunno. Nothin’ big. Ah jus’ thought Ah recognized someone in the hall an’ said hi. Ah jus’ lost mah marbles over it.”

“Dude, that’s it?” Victoria laughed and clapped Rogue on the shoulder. “She’ll forget about it by tomorrow and life will go on.”

“Yeah, Ah guess so,” Rogue conceded. She wasn’t so sure. This was a little more than a simple mistake. Would Alison stay in her head forever now, too?


	34. 3 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stain. –n. 1. a discoloration produced by foreign matter having penetrated into or chemically reacted with a material; a spot not easily removed 2. a natural spot or patch of color different from that of the basic color, as on the body of an animal 3. a cause of reproach; stigma; blemish 4. coloration produced by a dye that penetrates a substance, as wood 5. a dye made into a solution for coloring woods, textiles, etc. 6. a reagent or dye used in treating a specimen for microscopic examination –v. 7. to discolor with spots or streaks of foreign matter 8. to bring reproach or dishonor upon; blemish 9. to sully or guilt or infamy; corrupt 10. to color or dye (wood, cloth, etc.) by any of various processes that change or react with the substance chemically 11. to color with something that penetrates the substance 12. to treat (a microscopic specimen) with some reagent or dye in order to color the whole or parts and so give distinctness, contrast of tissues, etc. 12. to produce a stain 13. to become stained; take a stain

Remy was waiting for Rogue outside the school when the dismissive bell was rang. Rogue didn’t expect to see him for a while yet. The double date they were supposed to be going on wasn’t until six o’clock. Veronica had gone so far as to get a reservation at a restaurant. Granted, this restaurant wasn’t very high end, and the reservation was more for formalities than anything, but it helped them feel grown up. For a handful of fifteen and sixteen year-olds, that was a big deal.

“Hey, y’alright?” Rogue asked. She sidled up to him, though not so close she had to crane her neck to look at his face.

“Ya, I’m fine,” he replied. Rogue narrowed her eyes. He sounded evasive.

“What’s goin’ on?” she demanded.

“Look, somet’in’s come up in my family again …” To his credit, his look of displeasure was genuine. “I was supposed t’ be on the road two hours ago, but I promised you I wouldn’t disappear on you again.”

“But Remy … Veronica has a reservation an’ everythin’. What happened that’s so important right away?”

“Rogue, we’re heading out. Do you still need a ride?” Scott stopped for a moment, letting go of Jean’s hand as she continued towards the car.

“One moment, Scott.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll wait up.” He did a little skip to catch up with his red-headed companion.

Rogue turned her attention back to Remy. “Ah need ta understand. So Ah can explain it to Veronica.”

Remy grabbed her hands in his, giving them a soft squeeze. Rogue tried to jerk away, afraid of touching someone again, but he was wearing gloves. “I can’t. Not yet. Mon père, he’s expectin’ me.”

“What am Ah supposed ta tell Veronica?” Rogue asked.

“Tell her what I told you: mon père called an’ needs my help. He’s expectin’ me in Nawleans. One o’ dese days, I’ll tell you everyt’in’ dat’s goin’ on, I promise.” He dropped her hands, stepping sideways to get away. “I’m sorry, chere.” With that, he turned on his heel to jog away. Rogue was left dumbfounded.

Rogue wasn’t able to pull herself out of her stupor until Scott pulled up to the curb and Jean gave her a wave from the passenger side. “Hop in!” she called.

Rogue shook her head, as if it would help clarify what had just happened, and crossed the landing to the car. She climbed inside in silence.

“I’m sorry about what just happened with Remy,” Jean said. Her voice was soft.

“Why?”

“I know how important tonight was to you. I don’t want to say Remy’s a jerk, but he’s also very protective of … himself. None of us really know what goes on in his head. I don’t try to pick up on others’ thoughts, but his are, I don’t know, shrouded? In a psychic cloud? Even if I tried, which was only once, it’s difficult to get inside his head.”

“Is that why everyone was tellin’ me ta stay away from him?” Rogue asked. She realized she hadn’t buckled up yet, even though Scott was in line to pull out of the parking lot. She pulled the seat belt across her lap slowly, taking her time in buckling it into place.

“Partially,” Jean replied carefully. Rogue wasn’t in the mood to be suspicious. “So what are you going to do?”

“Ah dunno. Ah don’t have Veronica’s number ta even give her a call for a head’s up. Ah really don’t feel like bein’ a third wheel, but at the same time Ah can’t stand her up either.”

“You’re friends with Hank, right?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, Ah guess so. Why?”

“It would do him a lot of good to get out of the house for a night,” Scott said. The way he said it made Rogue feel like it was less of a suggestion. Even so, it wasn’t a terrible idea. Then again, this event was supposed to be a double date and Rogue didn’t want to cause drama.

“Ah’ll see,” Rogue sighed. She would rather have the subject dropped so that she could figure things out in silence. Much too soon, Scott pulled in the driveway to the mansion.

Rogue dropped her things off at her room and immediately went on to knock on Hank’s door. He wasn’t inside his room, but he met her in the hallway. “Hi, Rogue!” he greeted cheerfully.

“Hi Hank. Ah gotta question for ya.”

“What would it be?”

“Ah had a double date with a school friend an’ Remy today, but Remy decided to skip town. Ah don’t have her number ta call her up, so Ah was wonderin’ if you’d like to go as friends?” It sounded ridiculous now that she was asking him.

“Tonight?” Hank looked taken aback.

“Yeah. Is this a problem?”

“No! No problem at all! What time?”

“Six. We were goin’ out for dinner. Veronica has reservations an’ everythin’.”

“Reservations?” Hank echoed. “I see. I’ll pick you up at your room at five-thirty, then?”

“Um, what?”

“It’s decided!” Hank slid past her to get to the door of his room. “I’ll see you in a couple hours!”

“Ah, sure.”


	35. 4 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melancholy. –n. 1. a gloomy state of mind, especially when habitual or prolonged; depression 2. sober thoughtfulness; pensiveness 3. a. the condition of having too much black bile, considered in ancient and medieval medicine to cause gloominess and depression b. black bile –adj. 4. affected with, characterized by, or showing melancholy; mournful; depressed 5. causing melancholy or sadness; saddening; 6. soberly thoughtful; pensive

Rogue sat at the edge of her bed, her arms propped up on her thighs, staring at nothing in particular. She didn’t feel like doing anything productive. She hadn’t tried getting any of her homework done between school and the double date, nor did she try afterwards. While she knew she should have enjoyed herself, and Hank appeared ecstatic about being asked to go out, Rogue struggled to engage herself. Now, she was overthinking everything.

Someone knocked softly at her door. Rogue looked up, focusing her attention to the door, but said nothing. “Rogue?” the mystery person called. Sean. “We’re havin’ a big ol’ trainin’ session in the Danger Room, lass. Blue and red teams against gold team. Startin’ in ten. Ye in there?”

As much as Rogue wanted to stay silent, pretend she knew nothing about this session, she couldn’t handle the prospective disappointment. “Yeah, Ah’ll be there,” Rogue assured him. “Thanks, Sean.”

He didn’t reply. Presumably, he went off to alert more people or get ready himself.

Red and blue teams against gold team. Rogue wondered who would lead the combined red and blue team, and what they were going to do with the unequal numbers. Gold team had five members: Scott, Jean, Hank, Warren, and Piotr. Between red and blue teams, they had seven: Ororo, Kurt, Sean, Alison, Betsy, Bobby, and Rogue. Normally, Remy would lend another number to their combined team, but he was still off in New Orleans.

Rogue had to muster more strength than she thought should be necessary to get up off of bed and get dressed. Before long, she awaited orders in the Danger Room, alongside nearly everyone else in the school. Scott scanned the group through his ruby visor, waiting for the stragglers. Bobby and Hank were late.

“Okay, teams,” Scott announced as the two latecomers walked in side-by-side. “Today, we’re playing a little game of capture the flag. Mutant powers are encouraged. Pulled punches are also encouraged, however. We don’t need to send anyone to the infirmary.” Rogue wasn’t entirely sure who this instruction could be directed to. Could any of her X-Men teammates be powerful enough to singlehandedly send a body into critical care? “You’ll have five minutes once the holograms are up to hide your flag and come up with a plan of action with your team. Once you are tagged on off sides, either through body contact or through mutant energy contact, you are sent back to your base. One touch to base and you may reengage. The Danger Room is set to shut down once one team wins. Those are my only rules of engagement. Kurt, Ororo, do you have anything to add?”

Both team leaders declined. Scott handed an orange flag over to Ororo. “Begin simulation,” Scott shouted. A forest instantly sprouted around the gathered teenagers, complete with gigantic boulders and steep inclines. Many of the trees stood with two to three foot diameter trunks, others even larger. A small stream formed around the feet of the X-Men, winding its way in what could be assumed was the line between teams. “Jean, Elisabeth, please begin the five minute countdowns for your teams.”

“Storm, if you would like to call the shots,” Kurt offered.

Ororo nodded. “This seems more like your terrain than our terrain.” She held out the flag to Kurt. “Lead the way to a good base. Not one only you can get to, but all of us.”

Kurt grinned. “Would you like me to wait for you, or find a place and come back?”

“Find a base and come back. You have two minutes.” Ororo turned to the rest of the team, while simultaneously calculating gold team’s move. Scott led his four teammates through the thick forest. Piotr had armored up into a hulking metal form. He trailed his team until they disappeared in the foliage. “The rest of us will climb the incline in Kurt’s general direction. We want to put distance between us and this border.” Kurt scrambled up a bolder, and then a steep cliff to the higher ground. It was easy for him to find the roots and rocks to grip on to, but a much more difficult task for the remainder of the team. Ororo used her elemental control to lift herself up, and used the extra time to scan for the opposing team.

“You know what I think would work really well?” Bobby asked. His body was completely encased in ice, and his expression seemed unperturbed about the climb. Betsy and Ally were struggling to find handholds, and Bobby stood still. “I could make a whole ice fortress around our flag. One door. We’d know where it was, and we could easily tag base and go, but it’d slow down the other team a lot.”

“Wouldn’t Cyclops jus’ blast through it?” Sean asked casually. He didn’t seem to be exerting much effort in the climb and almost looked as nimble as Kurt in his ascent. “Or Colossus jus’ punch through it? That’d make a lot o’ debris only t’ slow down Angel an’ maybe Beast.”

“Not to mention obvious,” Betsy added in a strained voice.

“We will have two people stay behind to protect the flag,” Ororo said. “I think Psylocke and Dazzler would make a perfect defensive team. Psylocke could sense the oncoming team, and Dazzler has the long range advantage to target them.”

Betsy grunted as she pulled herself up to the cliff edge with her elbows. “That could work. Are you sure you don’t want me on the field to help you evade gold team on their side?”

Ororo contemplated it a moment. “Yes. Banshee and I have less subtle approaches, and that could cover for Rogue, Iceman, and Nightcrawler to infiltrate.”

Rogue blinked. She wasn’t sure how Ororo could think she could infiltrate quietly when she could barely make it up the cliff. She struggled as much as Betsy and Ally, but she was further behind in getting back up to her feet.

“Rogue, would you like to pair up with Iceman or Nightcrawler in the first time across?” Ororo asked her. Her icy blue eyes turned to her, kind but calculating. “This is your first training mission against Cyclop’s team. Your teammates could offer you insight and keep you on their side longer.”

“Yeah, sure,” Rogue said. She finally managed to roll onto the flatter cliff edge where her team waited. No one offered her any glib remarks about how much time she was taking in advancing forward into their territory.

“She’d be better off with Nightcrawler,” Bobby said. “I could get her through the forest faster with my ice bridges, but Nightcrawler is a lot less obvious than me.” While Rogue had been climbing the cliff, Bobby had done just that: made an ice bridge for himself up the cliff.

“Make it a three stage attack,” Ally suggested. “Storm and Banshee go in first, overhead. They’d act like cannon fodder, but draw attention and make themselves hard to ignore. Next, Iceman goes in and strategically makes a path for Nightcrawler and Rogue to go in. But Iceman will also be the main first line of defense, before it gets to me and Psylocke. Rogue and Nightcrawler avoid confrontation until the last moment.”

“That’s usin’ yuir head, lass!” Sean cried excitedly.

“I’m not sure how great I’ll be against all five of them,” Bobby commented.

“You won’t have to be against all five of them,” Betsy pointed out. “They’ll undoubtedly have someone guarding the flag, and Storm and Banshee wouldn’t be ignored. I’m sure Cyclops and Marvel Girl will see right through their attack, but they’ll cause havoc if left alone.”

The team moved slowly through the trees, steadily but gradually climbing upwards through the leaf litter. The air was eerily silent, absent of bird calls and insect songs. It was also incredibly still, without a trace of wind.

Nightcrawler appeared beside Rogue in a healthy burst of brimstone. He offered her a grin as she refrained from choking on the thick stench. “The flag is planted,” he said. He took the lead to guide the enlarged team to base.

“The gold team does have some serious firepower, though,” Ally said to Bobby’s defense. “Cyclops, Beast, and Colossus all could take us down with one punch. So to speak, in Cyclop’s case. Storm and Banshee couldn’t keep all three distracted.”

“I could keep one busy with ice,” Bobby said. He’d powered down to a human visage to travel through the pseudo forest. Even Bobby knew better than to leave a trail leading straight to their base.

“Assumin’ that’s three on three, that leaves two fer Rogue an’ Nightcrawler t’ deal with,” Sean mused.

“Hmm? That’s Rogue and me, us against Marvel Girl and Angel?” Kurt asked.

“Most likely not Angel,” Ororo said. “I believe Angel would battle against me for the sky.”

“You an’ Angel,” Sean said with a nod. “Me an’ one o’ they’re heavy hitters. That could be Marvel Girl, Cyclops, or Beast most likely.”

“Who do you suppose they would have guarding the flag?” Betsy asked.

“What if they don’t guard the flag?” Ally questioned in response. “What if they go full offense instead?”

“I don’t feel like Cyclops would try something like that,” Betsy argued her point calmly.

“How much longer to our base, Nightcrawler?” Ororo asked.

“Just over the hill,” he said. The roots became more gnarled, twisting around and over each other to punch through the rocky ground. It was a chore to avoid tripping and falling. The atmosphere seemed darker after the line of trees near the top of the slope.

“Good, because time’s about up,” Betsy said. She turned around briefly to look behind them.

“Don’t ye think high ground is a little obvious?” Sean asked.

“Vielleicht,” Kurt said, his voice admissible. “But it’s protected very well from above and behind. We’ll only have three directions to watch out for.”

“We can handle that,” Ally said, looking at Betsy with a grin.

“Here is base,” Kurt announced, gesturing toward the flag propped up on a stick. He turned to regard Ororo. “So what is the plan?”

Ororo’s eyes clouded over and her hands rose up to extend from her sides. “Psylocke and Dazzler guard base. I am the frontal assault. Banshee follows as my backup in the sky. Iceman follows on the ground, stopping the gold team before they reach our side. You and Rogue get that flag.” She rose off the ground. The wind picked up around the team, pulling at their hair and looser clothing. “Rogue can fill you in beyond that.” She carefully manipulated the airstream around her to pick her up through the forest canopy and disappeared from sight.

Sean smiled excitedly, watching after her for a moment. “Good luck, team,” he said. He offered them a small salute and took off at a run.

“Should I wait until I hear him?” Bobby asked.

“No, go,” Kurt urged. “We don’t want you making ice paths on our side.”

“Good point.” He took off after Sean.

Kurt turned to Rogue. “Ready to be sneaky?” he asked with a wide grin. He took her gloved hand and bounded down the slope they had just traversed, taking it at a breakneck speed.

“Kurt, what are you doing?” Rogue shouted in terror. Her feet wheeled, only miraculously holding her up by the balance lent to her by Kurt’s grip.

“Shh!” Kurt hissed. “Shouting isn’t sneaky!”

With that said, the worst screech Rogue had ever heard in her life started up ahead of them. Kurt twitched, slowing down slightly, his smile receding minutely. The sky, listless before, now teemed with angry life above them. The leaves whipped in the canopy, and the clouds that Rogue knew couldn’t logically exist grew larger and darker. Storm and Banshee were not kidding when they said they weren’t subtle.

“Ah, our cue!” Kurt shouted with excitement. Still, his grin was not as wide as before.

He slowed their suicidal pace at the stream and switched to a shiftier pace, bouncing from one tree to the next rather than shooting for the most open path. He released his grip on Rogue’s hand, allowing her to either follow him at her own pace or go her own separate way. When she followed, he struck up strategic conversation. “What is your combat plan?” he asked.

“Mah what?”

“When you encounter a member of gold team, what is your plan?”

“Ah didn’t really think that through.”

“Ja? Why not? We’re on their side and they have permission to take us down. What is your strategy?”

“Ah’ve never had t’ strategize before, Sugah….”

“Now is your chance!” Kurt paused and looked around a tree trunk. “We have permission to use our powers, Liebchen. That includes you.” Rogue balked. “Nah-ah! You can’t be afraid of who you are. It’s time you take off your own gloves and decide what you mean to this team, Rogue.” He paused at another tree and stared off in the direction he’d studied before. “Someone’s over there. Not Iceman. My guess is Colossus.” His attention whipped around to her again. “What’s your call? Me or you engage, or move on?”

“Weren’t we supposed t’ slide by without engagin’?” Rogue asked.

“You were there for the team strategy longer than me,” Kurt commented.

Rogue frowned. “Do not engage. Keep pushing in.”

Kurt nodded. “That works now, but what when we get closer to the flag? What if someone is there?”

“Ah dunno. Guess Ah’ll figure it out once I get there.”

“By the seat of your pants,” Kurt mused quietly. He led onward, pausing from time to time in the shadows of the trees. Thanks to Storm and Banshee, they didn’t have to be quiet. Nor did they have to try very hard to sneak around.

Soon, Kurt came to a stop and pressed his back against a tree. Rogue swore he almost became one with the tree. “Cyclops. Cyclops is their flag guard.” Kurt quickly judged Rogue’s blank expression. “Cyclops has concussive force blasts from his eyes. His visor controls his powers. He’s also a master strategist with delicate control. One hit from a blast and you’ll need to return to base before you can come back to try again. Distance is his friend, not yours.”

Rogue frowned. What good was she against a mutant like that? “We can try distracting him, coming at him from many angles,” Kurt suggested.

“There’s only two of us,” Rogue pointed out dryly.

“Ah, details.” Rogue had no clue what that meant. He looked up at the sky. “Banshee’s out. I wonder who took him down.”

He returned his attention to Scott. The older teen scanned the trees, standing passively on guard. “Okay,” Kurt said. “I think our best bet is for me to grab the flag. You – ”

Kurt was abruptly cut off by a voice that came from beside the two of them: “Hello, Nightcrawler. Rogue.”

Kurt whipped around with a true look of horror crossing his face. He instantly masked it. “Hello, Marvel Girl,” he retorted. He took off in a cloud of brimstone. Scott’s attention was now in their direction, but he didn’t appear too concerned.

Jean floated inches above the ground, her hands out to her sides as if to steady herself. She dropped gently, but made no move to attack. “I’ve heard you’ve been learning subterfuge tactics through Kurt. Is this what you expected from us?”

Rogue didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know what to expect. She knew that Jean could speak with her mind and hear others’ thoughts, but she could fly, too? Kurt prompted Rogue to take off her gloves and utilize her powers, but a part of it felt wrong.

Unfortunately, in her debate, Jean took the initiative. She held her hands in front of her, as if pushing. And push she did. Rogue moved sideways, her feet sliding through the decaying leaves of the forest floor. She panicked over not having control of her movements. As soon as Jean had control, she released her. Rogue stood directly in front of Scott. Jean followed at a leisurely walk.

“Sorry, Rogue,” Scott apologized. He reached up to his visor and released a red beam. It knocked Rogue clean off her feet, pushing the air from her lungs, but otherwise left her unhurt. “You’ll have to return to base,” he continued.


	36. 5 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bug. –n. 1. also called a true bug, hemipteran 2. any insect or insectlike invertebrate 3. any microorganism, especially a virus 4. a defect or imperfection, as in mechanical device, computer program, or plan; glitch 5. a. a person who has a great enthusiasm for something; fan or hobbyist b. a craze or obsession 6. a. a hidden microphone or other electronic eavesdropping device b. any of various small mechanical or electrical gadgets, as one to influence a gambling device, give warning of an intruder, or indicate location 7. a mark, as an asterisk, that indicates a particular item, level, etc. 8. the five-pound weight allowance that can be claimed by an apprentice jockey 9. a telegraph key that automatically transmits a series of dots when moved to one side and one dash when moved to the other 10. a joker that can be used only as an ace or as a wild card to fill a straight or a flush 11. a label printed on a certain matter to indicate that it was produced by a union shop 12. any of various fishing plugs resembling an insect 13. a bedbug –v. 14. to install a secret listening device in (a room, building, etc.) or on (a telephone or other device) 15. to bother; annoy; pester

“How are you today?” Ororo asked Rogue. While Rogue had been trying her best to avoid everyone, she somehow still managed to stumble into her team leader.

“Fine,” Rogue mumbled.

Ororo contemplatively studied her for a moment. “I would like to try an exercise with you,” she said.

Rogue barely managed to stop herself from asking bitterly, “After yesterday’s fiasco?” No one acted like they blamed Rogue for slowing them down, between red and blue teams, but Rogue knew that it couldn’t be the case. When Scott asked them to pull their punches, he didn’t mean to stand uselessly on the field to be blasted away by the opposing team.

Instead, Rogue said nothing. She wouldn’t have a choice if Ororo wanted to train Rogue up.

Ororo gestured down the hall, expecting Rogue to follow. She did. “Kurt offered himself to help you,” she said. Rogue couldn’t tell if she was being vague on purpose. “He explained to me that you were afraid of your powers.” She flicked her blue eyes in Rogue’s direction. Soft and friendly. “You should not be afraid. We are your friends and your teammates. We wish to see you succeed.”

“Y’all realize that if Ah use mah powers, yer comatose,” Rogue said bluntly. Still, she followed Ororo to the elevator leading down.

“Temporarily incapacitated,” Ororo corrected her. “That could leave you in the distinct advantage in a fight.”

“Ah don’t see how, Ororo. Ah feel like when Ah touch someone, Ah’m hurtin’ them. That’s not advantageous. That’s cruel.” Rogue didn’t want to mention that even after contact, the memories stayed. Rogue could flip through Cody’s entire childhood on demand. She could even conjure up some of Alison’s personality points and adopt them as her own. She didn’t have control over Alison’s powers anymore, but the rest stayed well enough.

“Alison mentioned nothing to me about your conflict in the hall the other day,” Ororo said. “If you had hurt her, I doubt she would have kept it to herself.”

That gave Rogue pause. Ally did like to complain when things weren’t perfect for her.

The elevator door opened to an expectant Kurt. He broke out into a smile. “I’m glad you came, Rogue!”

Rogue grumbled incoherently. “Yer sure about this, Kurt?” she asked.

He nodded. “As I’ll ever be. We want to help you, Liebchen. You can’t hesitate on the field. If you know the limits to your powers, you’ll feel more confident in yourself.” He turned and walked toward the Danger Room.

“Another simulation?” Rogue asked.

“No,” Ororo answered. “The Danger Room will be off.”

“We want a secure place for you to practice,” Kurt explained.

“Practice?” Rogue echoed.

“Ja. Being me!”

Rogue groaned inwardly.

“I will be around in case you need help,” Ororo said.

The door to the Danger Room opened, admitting the three of them.

“Why would Ah need help?”

Kurt shrugged. “It’s not easy being me.” A joke? He turned to face her, his arms out and open. “Ready to try?”

Rogue felt a mounting panic, looking between Ororo and Kurt. “Yer serious?”

“Ja, sehr,” Kurt said. He reached out, grabbed her hand with both of his. “It’s not going to be as bad as you think. Versprochen.”

Rogue looked away and took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do this, then.” She took her hand away solely to pull the glove off. Holding the extra glove in her still gloved hand, she tentatively reached her hand out to Kurt. She held his hand, feeling his surprisingly soft fur on his fingers, holding on for a few seconds. He went down, but Rogue caught him before he fell completely. Granted, she didn’t do a fantastic job at catching him, as he outweighed her, but at least she tried.

It took Rogue a moment to realize touching him didn’t create an instantaneous fight in her head. She straightened up and regarded Ororo curiously. “Ah’m not losin’ control,” she observed.

Ororo nodded. “That is good. Now try learning his power.”

Kurt’s memories didn’t bombard Rogue’s conscious, but she could recall relevant information that was at the forefront of his thoughts with ease. Kurt teleported. With just a thought, a little concentration, she did her best impression of Nightcrawler. She crossed the room within a moment. The energy drain was startling. When Kurt teleported, it wasn’t the most pleasurable feeling. She felt temporarily squeezed, as well as wrenched from the place she stood to get to the new space. It created a slightly nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not unbearable, but noteworthy. The accompanying stench of sulfur and brimstone didn’t help the uneasiness.

It took Ororo a moment to catch up to Rogue’s new position. “Good job!” she praised.

“Yeah,” Rogue agreed uneasily. She concentrated again, returned to Ororo’s side. The nausea didn’t increase any, but her energy levels dropped rather sharply. Teleporting was tiring! Still, Kurt’s consciousness didn’t fight her. His powers didn’t backlash. She had conscious power over his mind.


	37. 6 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Butterflies .-n. 1. any of numerous diurnal insects of the order Lepidoptera, characterized by clubbed antennae, a slender body, and large, broad, often conspicuously marked wings 2. a person who flits aimlessly from one interest or group to another 3. a queasy feeling, as from nervousness, excitement, etc. 4. a racing breaststroke, using a dolphin kick, in which the swimmer brings both arms out of the water in forward, circular motions 5. an X-shaped support attached to an armature 6. one of the swinging brackets of a butterfly table 7. a screen of scrim, gauze, or similar material, for diffusing light –v. 8. to slit open and spread apart to resemble the spread wings of a butterfly –adj. 9. split open and spread apart to resemble a butterfly

“Professor, if it’s alright, Ah’d like to stay home from school today,” Rogue said.

Professor Xavier had his hands steepled over the desk, his attention patiently directed towards Rogue. She stood awkwardly in the center of his office. She was uncertain, and her posture reflected that.

“Is anything the matter?” Xavier asked.

“No. Not really. Ah jus’ need a break, y’know? And, Ah know it’s Monday an’ we just had the weekend – ”

“I will call the school and let them know you will be absent,” Xavier said. Rogue detected no hint of anger or frustration. She was surprised. Weren’t authority figures supposed to push teenagers to their greatest potential? Wouldn’t that mean he should tell her to get over it and figure out how to better balance her life? Was school not the most important thing in human teenage years?

“You seem shocked,” Charles observed. “Did you think I would ignore your needs? Why come to me and ask if you thought that I would make you go?”

“Ah … Ah dunno.” Rogue was otherwise at a loss for words.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Xavier prompted kindly.

“No. Ah kinda jus’ need a day away from a big group’a people. Classmates an’ school. Teammates an’ X-Men.” Rogue shifted her stance. While she still stood with a small base, her arms hung more comfortably and less defensively.

Xavier nodded, though his expression gave away no thoughts. “Reach out if you need help. I am here to listen and help, should you need to talk things over. Likewise, Kurt would lend an ear. Warren and Remy should also be around while the others attend classes.” Either Remy was back, or Xavier didn’t know that he had left. Xavier reached for the phone cradled on his desk. “If you would excuse me for the moment, I need to call and notify the high school.”

Rogue obliged and ducked out of the professor’s office. Her stomach crawled uncomfortably.

How could she not be handling herself well? One touch, no true backlash except for a mishap in school. As Veronica said, it was no big deal. Anne wouldn’t even remember the exchange in a week. Yet, the whole situation still had Rogue shaken up. Even Kurt’s and Ororo’s efforts didn’t quite curb it.

Maybe … maybe Rogue needed to call home. The thought of reaching out to her previous guardian hadn’t crossed Rogue’s mind once since arriving at Xavier’s School for Gifted Children. Realizing that caused instantaneous and intense guilt to gnaw at her insides. She’d been so absorbed in her new life with the X-Men, she’d forgotten to check in with the woman who’d cared for Rogue after the disappearance of her mother.

It wasn’t like the two of them parted on a bad note. Rogue wanted control, after the incident with Cody, and Xavier’s pitch sounded like it was Rogue’s best chance at being normal. Rogue even had acceptance with Mystique. The woman didn’t seem to fear Rogue, despite knowing what one touch could do. However, Mystique didn’t have the desired calming effect Rogue sought. While Rogue clashed with certain personas around the X-Men, others helped Rogue feel like she belonged, even if just a little.

Rogue reached her room and sat on her bed. Her eyes purposefully looked past the backpack on the ground, where she had left it Friday afternoon. She had plenty of homework to keep herself busy, but her mood had been too dismal all weekend to think about touching it. While she looked forward to the break away from people, she knew that she’d have to tackle the homework with her time off. A pleasant side effect to getting the day off.

Rogue’s personal phone sat planted on her nightstand. It wasn’t a cell phone, rather a landline. Almost unheard of with modern day technology. Everyone had their own person cell phone. Except Rogue. The landline would do.

She took a deep breath and dialed in the phone number to Mystique. It rang twice before it was answered, though not by Mystique.

“Irene,” Rogue said pleasantly. “Is – ”

“No, she is not home, child,” Irene answered her. Rogue tried not to feel disappointed. “She’s currently working on something far away. I can have her call you back when she returns, but I do not know when that will be.”

“Yeah, Ah’d like that,” Rogue said. “Thank-you.”

Rogue gently cradled the phone. Tears threatened to spill, but Rogue wasn’t giving them the chance. Homework would have to do.


	38. 7 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discovery. –n. 1. the act or an instance of discovering 2. something discovered 3. compulsory disclosure, as of facts or documents 4. the third space shuttle to orbit and return to earth

Remy stood outside the school, standing conspicuously in the middle of the building’s exit so that Rogue couldn’t miss him. Rogue scowled at the sight of him and debated about turning back into the hallway to avoid him, but knew that if she did so, she’d miss her ride home with Scott and Jean. She bit the bullet and walked up to him without taming her disgruntled expression.

“What do you want?” she sneered.

“Hi, Remy. What a nice day we’re havin’, non? Look at da way da sun’s shinin’ an’ school’s gettin’ out so’s I’m a free person again. How’re you?” he said.

“Shut up. You don’t get the whole nice guy routine anymore, Remy. You gave that up on Friday,” Rogue scowled.

“Yah, an’ I get dat. I’m back an’ got time, chere. Lemme explain t’ings t’ ya, ‘kay? I promised I would.”

“Why should Ah wanna hear what you have to say?”

Remy blinked. “I guess … I dun know, chere. I t’ought ya wanted ta understand on Friday.”

Scott and Jean walked out of the building at that time and drew even with Remy and Rogue. Jean pulled Scott to a stop beside them, quickly assessing the situation. “Everything okay, you two?” she asked.

“Fine,” Remy said shortly.

Jean’s eyes darted to Rogue. She was the one Jean was more concerned about in this instance.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Ah’ll hitch a ride with Remy today. See ya at home,” Rogue confirmed. This was Remy’s last chance. He better explain everything in full, and it better make sense, or she’d leave him behind for good.

“Okay,” Jean said. Her expression told Rogue that she was still calculating the exchange. “We’ll see you later.”

Remy waited until Scott and Jean were out of sight, swept away by the sea of high schoolers walking away to their vehicles. “T’anks, chere.”

“You better have a good, warm place t’ explain yourself, Cajun,” Rogue said. “’Cuz Ah ain’t stickin’ around out here t’ hear ya out.”

Remy nodded eagerly. “No problem!”

While the trip to the coffee shop was none too pleasant, it was an expedited trip with Remy’s motorcycle. Snow piled up along the sides of the roads, decorating the shoulders with heaps of muddy, cold moisture, but the roads were clear. Clear or not, Rogue was clutching on to Remy for dear life the entire way, halfway expecting the bike to slide out from underneath them and send them into one of those snow banks. On the bright side, the bike was very easy to park close to the coffee shop, minimizing their walk.

Rogue’s unclothed hands clutched a coffee mug, holding on to it to warm up her fingers. “Alright, spill. Who’s your père?”

“Mon père,” Remy explained unhelpfully with a shrug. He’d offered his coat to Rogue inside the shop, but she refused. He’d hung it on his chair, exposing a very plain t-shirt underneath. “He found me on da streets as a chil’. I picked pockets t’ stay alive, an’ I ended up pickin’ his pocket one day. Instead’a fightin’ me off or gettin’ me in trouble, he took me in like a son. B’fore him, I didn’t really have anyone really lookin’ out f’r me, y’know?”

“You were a child thief?”

Remy nodded. “Pretty good one, too.” His eyes darted off to the side for a moment before reengaging hers. “D’ough, dis was on da streets of Nawleans. Lots’a drunks an’ tourists.”

“So when he found you, he acted like your daddy. Fed ya and clothed ya instead’a you doin’ it yourself,” Rogue guessed.

“Mmhmm. Mon père,” Remy repeated. “Father figure. I even adopted his last name. Didn’t really have one b’fore.”

And Rogue thought the beginning of her life was rough. At least she had a parental figure until her mother disappeared.

“Anyways, he’s been findin’ himself in a whole lotta trouble lately. He’s kinda da head of’a big, extended family sorta thing. I dunno how many of us der are. Were. I keep tryin’ ta split, but dey keep pullin’ me back. An’ wit’ everyt’in’ mon père’s done f’r me, I don’t feel like I can really say no.”

“What kinda trouble is he in?” Rogue asked.

“Financial,” Remy replied. Something felt off to her about his answer. He replied quickly and flatly in comparison with the rest of his story. He didn’t give her too much time to think about it. “He’s gettin’ pushed outta da city ‘cuz he can’t pay up. B’fore I left, I was like his right-hand man. So it’s kinda my problem, too.”

“Why’d you even leave, Remy?” Rogue asked. Rogue had her reasons for leaving Mystique. But Remy had offered her no concrete reason for leaving his adoptive family.

“I don’ like da way dey pushin’ me, chere,” Remy explained. “Seein’ as I’m like mon père’s son, my family tryin’a push me ta marry a woman t’ smooth t’ings out an’ get our family back on track.”

Rogue was dumbfounded. Marriage was a thing that never even crossed her mind. Remy didn’t seem much older than her, if at all. Teenagers shouldn’t have to think about such things. Suddenly, his leaving was making sense. As well as his reasons for continuously visiting his family.

“So every time you disappear …” Rogue started.

“Court dates an’ family meetin’s an’ such,” Remy said. “I’m tryin’ ta come up wit’ a dif’rent solution so I ain’t stuck.”

“Why didn’t you jus’ do that from New Orleans?”

Remy’s mouth twitched. “One: Belladonna’s brother, Julien. Two: dat shit way too oppressive up close an’ personal. T’ree: ‘Roro.”

“’Roro?”

“Stormy.”

“Oh.” Rogue’s face scrunched up. “What?”

Remy’s gaze shifted to somewhere far away. A small smile ghosted his face. “Dat woman an’ I got inta so much trouble when I firs’ got away from my family. Not like real trouble. Teenager t’ings.” Rogue had no idea what he could be talking about. Ororo acted so much more uptight than Remy ever had. And was Remy playing Rogue when he really had eyes for Ororo?

Remy suddenly seemed to realize Rogue’s jealousy. “Oh, not like dat, chere.” He grimaced. Licked his lips almost nervously.

“What?” Rogue prompted, perhaps a little too harshly.

It took Remy another moment to reply. He was thinking too hard. “We went on unauthorized adventures.” Rogue looked more confused than placated. “Breakin’ an’ enterin’,” he explained more simply. “Usually temporarily unoccupied places’a da rich.”

Rogue’s eyes flew wide. She didn’t take Ororo as the rebellious type. Remy, sure.

“I was runnin’ away from responsibility. I dunno ‘Ro’s excuse,” Remy continued. “’Ventually she convinced me ta join da X-Men. I jus’ wanted somet’in’ comfortable. Familiar. But I didn’t want ta go back home, neither. So I stayed wit’ her an’ joined.” He leaned forward. “You kept me from stayin’ in Nawleans. It’d be so easy ta fall back int’ place an’ stay. I’d take over Jean-Luc’s place as da family head in some years. But you keep me comin’ back t’ New York.”

Rogue didn’t know what to say. “Me? Why?”

Remy leaned back again. “’Cuz you da most interestin’ person I e’r met, chere. Belladonna an’ I got a long history, sure. But she a kind’a dangerous I’m not necessarily keen on invitin’ inta my life. An’ dat woud mean stayin’ in Nawleans.”

“So Ah’m just a means ta a way,” Rogue nearly spat.

“No.” Remy said that firmly enough that she believed him. The rest of his story, however, as absurd as it was, almost sounded like it was missing pieces rather than being completely fabricated. “I don’t want ta stay in Nawleans, chere. I want ta stay wit’ you.”

“An’ how long’s that gonna last?” Rogue asked.

“What gonna last?”

“You bein’ interested in me.”

Remy snorted. “Chere, long as you don’ push me away, I gonna be here.”

“Except when you’re with your family.”

He scowled. “Hopin’ dat’s gettin’ clarified real soon. I’m workin’ on it.” He held up a hand to his temple and rubbed it slowly. “I jus’ don’ know how ta fix it yet.”


	39. 8 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Forget. –v. 1. to cease or fail to remember; be unable to recall 2. to omit or neglect unintentionally 3. to leave behind unintentionally; neglect to take 4. to omit mentioning; leave unnoticed 5. to fail to think of; take no note of 6. to neglect willfully; disregard or slight 7. to cease or omit to think of something

Rogue was dressed in her mutant best, making her way from her bedroom to the Danger Room in the lower levels of the mansion. Ororo had asked her to set aside time for another special training session so that she could learn hand-to-hand. Usually, that also involved the blue team’s leader, Nightcrawler. Storm would merely direct from the outskirts as Nightcrawler pushed Rogue around, match after match.

His words echoed in her head, over and over: “You can’t be afraid of who you are. It’s time you take off your own gloves and decide what you mean to this team.” And then, when she’d failed to perform, he’d pushed her further. “If you know the limits of your powers, you’ll feel more confident in yourself.”

The X-Men weren’t afraid of Rogue. Rogue was afraid of Rogue. That sentiment was finally getting through Rogue’s self-pitying mind. She didn’t try as hard as she could have because she was afraid. She was afraid of hurting others. Yet, on Sunday, Nightcrawler had proven to Rogue that not everything about her powers was bad. He’d revived shortly after the training session, where she’d tried her best to mimic his style with his powers. No more worse from the wear than before her touch.

Maybe the X-Men were trying to help. And succeeding.

While the realization didn’t immediately flip Rogue’s view upside-down, she did try and let it boost her mood and confidence. She walked boldly down the hallway with her chin up and her shoulders square. She was going to prove that she was worth having on the team. Today. With Storm and Nightcrawler.

The halls were otherwise fairly vacant except for another pair of mutants leaving the rec room. Rogue immediately recognized Warren, his wings unmistakable. Beside him, Alison. Rogue offered Alison a friendly smile as they passed. If she could prove to Storm that she could be a part of the team, Alison would be able to see it soon, too. Unfortunately, Alison didn’t return the smile. In fact, she sent a sneer following after Rogue’s receding form. Warren didn’t seem to notice at all, and continued chatting about whatever it was they were talking about as Ally threw daggers with her eyes.

The simple exchange was enough to deflate Rogue’s spirits back to where they’d been over the weekend. Alison could have plenty of reasons to hate Rogue. They’d accidentally touched and Rogue violently acquired her. Rogue may have ruined her friendship with Anne. Perhaps, with Rogue’s hesitation in the capture the flag simulation, Alison pinned the blame on their team losing on Rogue. Maybe it even had to do with Remy, as Rogue accepted the Cajun’s explanation and Alison obviously didn’t like him. Or it could be as simple as she didn’t think Rogue was pulling her own weight in the red team.

She tried to block it all out, concentrate on Storm’s and Nightcrawler’s encouragements, but the negative thoughts fed into Rogue’s insecurities. No one actually wanted Rogue around.

When the doors to the Danger Room opened, two people already waited for Rogue inside. Storm stood strongly in the center of the room, but instead of having Nightcrawler beside her, Banshee took his place. It almost felt like another slap to her face. Was Kurt also avoiding Rogue?

“Are you ready?” Storm asked as Rogue walked up. “This will be the same concept as what we’ve been working on with Nightcrawler, but Banshee will be filling in for him.”

“Make no mistake, lass. I may not be as slimy as Nightcrawler, but ye don’t wanna be underestimatin’ me,” Sean warned her lightheartedly.

“He’s not avoidin’ me, is he?” Rogue asked. She couldn’t help it. Too many coincidences were stacking up against her now that her powers were being exercised.

Sean laughed. “No, not at all! He brought his team outside for a snowball fight! Him’n Iceman against Gambit’n Psylocke, if I understood correctly. Ah, but what a brutal battle that’ll be.”

“It is not a bad idea,” Storm commented slyly. “But I declined participation on the basis that I would like to walk for the rest of the week. The snow is Iceman’s element, and Nightcrawler and Gambit are far too competitive for me to handle.

“Now, we must get to work. Cyclops has the Danger Room booked for dusk. We do not have very long.”

Banshee sidestepped away from Storm and fell into a natural defensive pose. “Ye get first move, lass,” he told her.

Rogue hesitated. She was used to Nightcrawler jumping in heads first, forcing her to think fast lest she get whapped upside the head. He was focusing on self-defense, not attack. Trying her best to think ahead, assess Banshee’s vulnerabilities, she ran forward, fist ready to strike at her side. She came in hard and wide. Banshee took the window of opportunity, ducked and sidestepped, and threw two quick punches to her exposed middle. Rogue brought her freehand up too late, missed her follow through step, and nearly crashed to the ground. Banshee rounded her doubled over form, staying beside her.

“You will need better speed to pull that one off,” Storm commented.

Rogue growled and spun, using the momentum from her misstep to aid in the move. She adjusted her weight distribution on the fly, swinging out her leg for a kick. Banshee caught her rather than sidestepping her, as Kurt would. Holding on to her leg, he swept his own underneath her and sent her crashing to the floor.

“That was quite good,” he said to her brightly.

She grumbled from the floor.

“No, really! I’m impressed with your recovery, love.” He held out his hand to help her off the ground. “Let’s try again, shall we?”


	40. 9 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous. –adj. 1. feeling resentment against someone because of that person’s rivalry, success, or advantages 2. feeling resentment because of another’s success, advantage, etc. 3. characterized by or proceeding from suspicious fears or envious resentment 4. inclined to or troubled by suspicions or fears of rivalry, unfaithfulness, etc., as in love or aims 5. solicitous or vigilant in maintaining or guarding something 7. intolerant of unfaithfulness or rivalry

“You’re not without a ride again, are you?” Veronica asked. Rogue sat on the curb leading to the pick up/drop off curve in front of the high school.

“No. Ah’m just waitin’ for him to show up.”

“Is it Remy again?” Veronica asked, almost hungrily. After Friday, and then their meeting in the coffee shop, Veronica almost knew the whole story. But Rogue did omit the exact reasons to his periodic disappearances.

“Act’ly … no.”

“Hank?”

Rogue wondered how Veronica managed to keep everything straight. She knew about Remy and Hank, even about Scott and Jean. On top of half of the school’s business, whether it was her grade or not. “No, not Hank. He stays behind late for extra labs or somethin’ some days. Ah guess today is one of those days.”

“Okay, I gotta know, you all stay in the same house, right?”

Rogue tried not to be suspicious. “Yeah.”

“But isn’t it a school already? Like, the School for Gifted Youngsters?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rogue agreed hesitantly.

“So why do you go to school here?”

Rogue blinked. “It’s not that kinda school.”

“Then what kind of school is it?”

Rogue swore her throat dried out instantly. “Special subjects,” she croaked. “Like, um, social special.”

“Like autistic?”

“Sometimes.” Rogue decided the lie needed a little more flavor. “It’s a home for children – teens, act’ly – that don’t have nowhere else to go. Like Ah … Ah lost mah mum a few years back. Mah foster … didn’t really work out. So Xavier invited me t’ the school. Ah guess you could say that sometimes, it’s that you need extra help with life there, too.”

Veronica was quiet a moment. “Why’s Scott there?”

Rogue shot Veronica a questioning glare. Why did she wonder about Scott? She was usually fixated on Remy.

“Orphan,” Warren said. Rogue jumped. She didn’t know he’d show up. She temporarily panicked, remembering that he had wings, but he somehow had them hidden. He passed off the visage with a stylish long coat.

“Warren! How long you been there?”

“Not long,” he said with a smirk.

Veronica was uncharacteristically speechless. Rogue was sure to hear about this one for a while. A near genuine playboy picked Rogue up in lieu of eye candy but rough around the edges Remy, stuck up but almost perfect in every way Scott, and the hulking but kind genius Hank. Veronica had the decorum to keep from saying it in front of Warren, but Rogue could see it in her eyes. Jealousy. Jealous of Rogue, living young men of her dreams. She’d drop Trevor in a heartbeat for the lewd thoughts she had of Rogue’s teammates. And for that, Rogue was jealous of her. Sure, Scott shot uncontrollable force beams from his eyes, Remy’s eyes were red and black, Warren had wings, and Hank had hands and feet not quite human – but all of them could touch another without fear.

“And you?” Veronica asked, bordering on breathless. “What reason could you have for being different?”

Warren cracked a small smile. “Father wants me dead.”

Veronica’s palpable lust was stumped for a moment. Did she think him crazy, or that much sexier? Rogue, on the other hand, was completely caught off guard. She had no clue.

“Schizophrenic?” Veronica guessed.

“No. He actually just wants to change me into something I’m not.”

“Gay,” Veronica said with a lackluster tone.

Warren flustered. “No.”

Rogue stood up, deciding that she’d had enough of the conversation. Grabbing Warren by the arm, she led him off in the direction of the parking lot. “See ya tomorrow, Veronica!” she called over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Veronica agreed. A little disappointment crept into her voice. “See you then.”

Once they were out of the crowd, Rogue let go of his arm. “So how’re we gettin’ home?” she asked.

“Flying,” Warren replied simply. “It’s a nice day.”

“Oh.” Rogue felt her eyes widen. “Ah … okay.”


	41. 10 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Button. –n. 1. a small disk, knob, or the like for sewing or otherwise attaching to an article, as of clothing, serving as a fastening when passed through a buttonhole or loop 2. anything resembling a button, especially in being small and round, as any of various candies, ornaments, tags, identification badges, reflectors, markers, etc. 3. a badge or emblem bearing a name, slogan, identifying figure, etc., for wear on the lapel, dress, etc. 4. any small knob or disk pressed to activate an electric circuit, release a spring, or otherwise operate or open a machine, small door, toy, etc. 5. a bud or other protuberant part of a plant 6. a. a young or undeveloped mushroom b. any protuberant part of a fungus 7. any of various small parts or structures resembling a button, as the rattle at the tip of the tail in a very young rattlesnake 8. the point of the chin 9. a fastener for a door, window, etc., having two arms and rotating on a pivot that is attached to the frame 10. a small globule or lump of metal at the bottom of a crucible after fusion 11. the protective, blunting knob fixed to the point of a foil 12. a small, button-shaped or clearly defined area that the user can click on or touch to choose an option –v. 13. to fasten with a button or buttons 14. to insert (a button) in a buttonhole or loop 15. to provide (something) with a button or buttons 16. to be capable of being buttoned

Rogue carried her biology book and notebook through the hallways of Xavier’s school, a pencil between her fingers as an added bonus. She needed Hank’s help. Again.

Her biology class was working on learning mitosis. She understood the definition of mitosis well enough: the splitting of cells to create two identical cells. It was a form of growth and rejuvenation. It was the phases of mitosis that were causing her issues.

To make matters worse, her algebra class was starting to ramp things up as well. It was a lot more difficult to apply math than it was to understand biology. Math had no context. All it consisted of were numbers and graphs. Inapplicable to life.

The hallways were bustling, as far as activity in the mansion went. Rogue was thankful that she didn’t run into Alison, but she did come across the big guy of few words. Piotr, if she remembered correctly. He was holding a canvas. The way in which he had it in his arms, Rogue wondered if he was self-conscious about its contents. Rogue’s curiosity was piqued.

As she passed by, she stole a glance at the piece and was stopped in her tracks. “Oh mah!” she cried. Peter genuinely jumped and turned around. “Did you paint that?” she asked.

“Da …” Piotr said. He didn’t seem to be certain about owning up to being the piece creator.

“It’s beautiful, Sugah!” she said. “May Ah get a closer look?”

Piotr glanced up and down the hallway, as if checking to see whether or not the coast was clear. He and Rogue were the only two within sight. He held it out at an angle for Rogue to study its surface.

The picture depicted a wintry scene. A little girl in a simple, yet detailed parka. He’d painted each button with care, even detailing the furry trim around the cuffs. She sat in the middle of a farmer’s field, ringed with dormant foliage. A proud barn, held together by hopes and wishes, stood off to the side of the canvas. His use of color was phenomenal, the composition perfect. He’d created a true masterpiece.

“Ah didn’t know you were an artist,” Rogue commented.

“I do not paint often,” Piotr told her. “This was for art class at school. I have class for painting this semester. Teacher give me free study to paint.”

Rogue laughed. “Ah don’t know if yer teacher has much to teach you!” she said. “This is a beautiful painting.”

“Thank-you,” Piotr said. His embarrassment leaked away as he tucked the canvas against his massive body again. “It is of sister, Illyana. She stays home, in Russia.” He paused for a moment, lost in thought. “I miss my family, but I do more good here, in America with X-Men.”

Rogue felt a little pang. The mansion was her home now. She had nowhere else to go except off on her own. Staying with peers was a much better alternative to that. “Maybe you can visit her next month,” Rogue said. “It’ll give you something to do over spring break.”

Piotr nodded. “I might like that,” he said. He then gestured toward her books. “You are seeing Hank? I should not waste your time.”

Rogue glanced down at the books in her arms, as if she’d forgotten about them. “Oh yeah. Ah should get this homework finished up.” She flashed a genuine smile at Piotr. “Thank-you for lettin’ me see your paintin’!”


	42. 11 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twirl. –v. 1. to cause to rotate rapidly; spin; revolve; whirl 2. to twiddle 3. to wind idly, as about something 4. to rotate rapidly; whirl 5. to turn quickly so as to face or point in another direction –n. 6. an act or instance of twirling; spin; whirl 7. something convoluted or having a spiral shape; coil; curl; convolution

“Oh, Rogue, you’re still awake!” Remy’s voice floated excitedly through the rec room’s door. Rogue sat alone on the couch, channel flipping through movies and television shows alike. Most of the mansion was asleep, but Rogue didn’t feel like going to bed.

“Yeah. What’s up, Sugah?” Rogue asked.

Remy’s eyes darted briefly to the television screen before he looked back at her with a widening grin. “Feel like goin’ out t’ watch a movie, chere?”

Rogue scrunched up her brow in confusion. “Isn’t the movie theatre closed at this time’a night?”

Remy shrugged lightly. “Nah. Jus’ gonna be a real light crowd, n’est-ce pas?” He chuckled. “C’mon chere. Big movies, you an’ me. It’ll be a blast.” Rogue still waffled. Remy sighed. “Da Vow jus’ came out. Cute romance? Pre’y actors, yah? Or action, ya get da Safehouse. Denzel Washington. He’s always good. Whatever ya want, chere, I get you a front row seat.”

Rogue drew in a breath and turned off the TV. “Alright. A movie. Ah guess so.”

Remy’s smile broadened further. “Great. You go grab your coat.” Remy already wore his. It wasn’t unusual for him. He kept his coat on most times indoors and out. “I go grab my bike. Meet you at da front.”

Rogue did as she was told and managed to walk out the front doors of the mansion without running into another soul to meet Remy as he gently pulled up to the steps. Quickly situating a helmet on her head and her arms around his waist, Remy took off towards town. Town, as could be expected on a late Saturday night – so late that it could be considered Sunday morning – was sparsely populated. Some people still milled about, especially about the liquor centers, but the populace wasn’t akin to midday crowds. Rogue was rather surprised about how different the city felt at night than it did during the day. It almost felt less welcoming.

Yet the hospitality of the general city was much greater than the greeting extended by the theater. While the outside neon still glowed, the inside was very much dark.

“Uh, Remy …” Rogue said. “Ah think you’ve made a mistake, Sugah.”

Remy pulled to a stop around the side of the building and switched off his bike. “A mistake, chere?” He chuckled and gestured for her to hand over the helmet. “Nah, Rogue. No mistake. Movies ain’t closed t’ me.” He offered her a cheeky wink. “’Fraid I can’t help much wit’ popcorn. Sorry ‘bout dat.”

“Remy, we should go home. What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

When Rogue didn’t hand over her helmet, Remy shrugged and walked away, heading straight to the movie theater’s doors. He dug in his coat’s breast pocket as he walked and held something in each hand by the time he was done messing with the pocket. More curious than anything, Rogue dropped off her helmet on Remy’s bike and followed quietly. Remy crouched in front of the door, holding his hands even with the lock, and wiggled his fingers. Before long, he could pull open the door. A door that never opened from the outside, even when the theater was open.

“How …?” Rogue asked, but didn’t know how to continue.

Remy filed the lock picks back into his breast pocket. “It ain’t difficult,” he told her. “An’ t’ing ‘bout dis theater, is it ain’t got a security system. No cameras, no alarm. Not’in’. Extra lock on da manager’s office an’ a good safe, but dat’s it.”

“How do you know how to pick locks?” Rogue asked suspiciously.

Remy shot her a sideways glance, his look skeptical. “Y’know, I’m really surprised wit’ my reputation, it’s not expected. Stormy’s better at it den me, for your information. Faster. You comin’ inside, chere?”

Rogue hesitated, but eventually let herself through the open door. Remy shut and relocked it behind them. “I woul’n’t be doin’ dis if I t’ought it’d get you in trouble, Rogue,” he said. “I ain’t ‘bout backstabbin’ an’ shit. Da other X-Men, dey might call me sketchy an’ shady an’ unreliable, but I ain’t no liar or coward, comprenez? I scoped dis place out earlier, made sure I could get around wit’out problem. Now, I promise everyt’in’ gonna be alright.”

“And you ain’t a drug dealer,” Rogue added. “Ah guess a drug dealer wouldn’t know how ta pick locks.”

Remy snorted. “I forgot ‘bout dat. Yeah, ain’t no drug dealer. My drug’a choice? Adrenaline high. Live it large, chere.” He nodded forward. “So you decide what ya wanna watch? Romance or action? I should be able t’ get either playin’ for ya.”

Rogue shuffled her feet. The lengths Remy went through for this date, while unorthodox, were sweet in intention. “Ya sure you’re up for a romance, Sugah?” she asked.

Remy grinned. “Absolutely. I give you da choice, did I not?” Dis way. With that, he took off in an excited gait down the hallway.


End file.
